"There was a scene in the movie "Powder" when a hunter fatally injured a deer. The lead, an albino outcast, too the hunter's hand and placed it on the deer. The hunter then felt what the dying deer was experiencing, which he couldn't describe in words. He was so affected by this experience that he vowed to never hunt again.

       In my practice as an animal communicator, I have had many dramatic sessions with clients and their animal companions. But it was a recent session that has still left me changed and at the same time, in awe, that I will attempt to describe in words.

       On Monday night, I received a frantic phone call from my friend, Jen. She owns a stable nearby and I have done many readings for her boarders and their animals. There had been an accident, she told me. Image, her best friend and horse companion had been kicked severely by another horse. Could I please come immediately? She needed to talk to her horse beforehand, if indeed, she had to be put down.

       I have very little experience with dying animals, except for two of our own, which I never really "got over." I wasn't sure I could handle the emotions, much less be of strength to my friend. I glanced at my husband rushing dinner down his throat. He could come to support me, but I didn't have much confidence he would be able to handle the gut-wrenching emotions we were about to face either.

       WE arrived to see a tragedy in slow-motion. My mind, not being able to process the horror I was seeing, reduced the scene into a movie screen. The strong Ronni took over. I would be everyone's anchor for the next hour.

       I could feel that Image knew I was coming and she focused intently on me when I arrived. Her eyes were soft and gentle like her energy which I remembered from previous sessions. I tried my best to ignore her dangling leg. As in most of my sessions, I instantly connected to her. she was in my head and I in hers. We could hear and feel each other. I stared at this beautiful white horse who was being hugged tightly by a hysterical Jen.

       Image gave me her thoughts: she was okay about crossing over..she needed to reassure Jen...that the baby she was leaving behind would be alright. Through Image's eyes I "saw" gold steps leading upwards and heard the world "it's just like going up steps."

       It was then that I felt a wave of the most incredible love surrounding me and then the feeling I was being thanked. I watched as faint wings cloudily formed around her and I sensed there were other people behind me, although Jen's family and my husband were in front of me.

       "She okay, Jen," I said. "She's okay about leaving."

       "I know," she mumbled. "As soon as the accident happened, I looked into her eyes and I knew she was okay. I don't know why."

       Jen began to cry profusely and so did I. It was time to let her go. She was holding up Image's beautiful vanilla body because she knew Image couldn't stand on her own. The vet took Jen's place and Jen joined her family and turned around to shield herself from what would happen next. I watched as Jen let go of Image's body and Image fell onto the ground with a thud; this beautiful being lying on the ground, helpless.

       Image was still speaking to me, but oddly, I could feel and hear her to the left of my body. "I'm okay," she said. The vet was standing over her body giving her a shot to "help her go easier."

       "She's almost gone," he said, a few minutes later, but I already knew. My horse client was now to my left in spirit, her body in front of me. There was crying all around me but I was left standing alone in time and space with this horse that was no longer a horse. "I'm fine! I'm fine!" I could hear here say inside my head, louder than any of my own thoughts.

       And then a wave passed over. It was the feeling of my Mom reading stories to me as a child, my first audience applause when I was a five-year-old ballerina, and the closeness of my husband beside me at night. This feeling lasted for what seemed forever and I wanted to get lost in it. I was swimming with Image. Actually, I was swimming IN Image. It was sharp contrast from the horror surrounding me: the lifeless body, the utter grief. And then the feeling ended and I felt Image slowly move away, farther and farther. For the first time in my life, I felt very alone and not alone and I, my limited view, was trying to adjust to a much more expansive view. And without warning, my legs began to shake, and I felt the room spin. I had realized, like the hunter did, that I would never be the same."