As I type this sentence, my cat is sitting in the kitchen staring at me. She's been at it for around fifteen minutes now. Just sitting perfectly still, eyes focused my way with a cold emotionless gaze. I have no idea what's behind this. Am I entertainment? Am I prey? Am I being disapprovingly judged? Is her brain simply in the "off" position? I have no way of knowing.
At least I didn't until now.
It's no real secret that "reality" TV is the bottom of the entertainment barrel. I know this to be true, because I have swum to the bottom of its acrid depths and tasted her rotting forbidden fruit more times than I care to admit. I'm a sucker for any show where idiots are forced to interact with other idiots. Or where bumps in the night are irrefutable proof of ghosts. Or where any rustle in the trees means "there's a 'Squatch in these woods!" I'm perfectly okay with reality TV as long as you realize it's not especially real.
At least I was until now.
I've just watched a few clips of a new British reality show that's surely 100% real and not a load of hooey whatsoever. It's a show that could change the course of humanity, expand our basic understanding of nature, and cause us to question and redefine our very place in the cosmos. A show that could only be called... "THE PET PSYCHIC."
Some people coast through life, offering no positive contributions to the world around us. No such fate has befallen Beth Lee-Crowther. Beth has instead, at what I can only assume to be great personal sacrifice, gifted society with her wonderful talent -- the ability to psychically communicate with our household pets to tell us their most intimate thoughts and desires. Just like the famous Dr. Doolittle before her, Beth can talk to the animals.
It appears to come fairly easily to a skilled telepath like Beth. She just sort of sits next to your pet, makes a weird face, and then tells the owners something like, "Your dog just told me he thinks you're lazy" or "the cat thinks your kids are too loud." Seems legit to me. After all, there's no evidence that she's NOT psychically talking to our beloved pets -- well, I mean, apart from our basic understanding of science, nature, biology, and the known limitations of minds both human and animal. But otherwise, it seems to check out. If she were a fraud, surely our pets would let us know, right?
And last week, Beth dropped a bombshell. In an interview with Metro.co.uk, Lee-Crowther informed us of a new and exciting development in pet psychic-dom. According to Beth, we are ALL blessed with her same gift and can communicate psychically with our pets. We just need to follow her step-by-step instructions. Ever wondered why your dog pees on the carpet? Concerned whether your cat prefers chicken or salmon? Ever stayed up late at night worried that your lizard thinks you're lazy? All this time, we've had the ability inside of us to seek the answers.
According to Lee-Crowther, here's all you need to do to psychically have a chat with your beloved pet:
First, use a meditation technique of your preference to get your mind into a "relaxed theta state" in order to send and receive telepathic messages. I have no idea what this means, but hey, give it a shot. I'll wait. Okay, are you relaxed and all theta'd up? Good. Next, take a deep breath through your nose, hold it for seven seconds, and breathe out your mouth. Do this three times.
With your eyes open, take your middle finger and place it on your intuitive third eye in the center of your forehead between your eyes. Then tap this point with your fingertip gently seven times. Keep your finger on your forehead, look up at your finger, and slowly cross your eyes while staring upward for 10 seconds. Now, close your eyes and imagine yourself at a familiar and happy place you love. Think of the animal you want to communicate with. Open your eyes to look at the animal, and in your mind, say their name three times and ask them to join you.
According to Beth, you should now be able to carry on a mental chit-chat with your pet and they should respond to your questions in turn. The answers "may seem like your own voice in your mind or it might be a vision or thought from the pet or animal. It could be an emotion, gut feeling, or aroma. Each animal is always different, but just allow the messages to flow."
Seems perfectly logical and not at all insane, and I've always yearned for my cat to send me psychic smells, because the litterbox just isn't visceral enough. So I just gave it a shot. I meditated for a bit, held my breath for seven seconds, put my middle finger on my forehead, tapped seven times, stared upwards, did the hokey-pokey, and turned myself around. I closed my eyes and imagined myself at a familiar and happy place I love (Co-Op Records!) I thought of my cat, said her name three times in my mind ("Meatbag Meatbag Meatbag,") and asked her to join me.
She didn't budge, but it didn't stop me from asking, "What are you thinking right now?"
Plain as day, I heard my cat psychically respond in my brain. She clearly said, "I'm wondering why you're flipping me off. Also, you're lazy. NOW GIVE ME FOOD."
Bless you, reality TV. Without your informative truth, I might never know how real housewives behave. I would have no idea how people catch Alaskan king crab or drive trucks on ice roads. I might not even know who Kylie Jenner's dating. And now, I can carry on all the private mental conversations with my cat I fancy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go. I need to hold my breath for seven seconds, tap my forehead seven times, slide to the left, slide to the right, take it back now y'all, cha cha real smooth, and find out why my cat is sending me psychic urine smells from the basement.
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