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Law of Attraction Stories about Animals

By January 8, 2008March 10th, 2019Blog

Do you love animals? Whether you are a dog or cat person, a horse or ferret lover, you have a story of how your animals companions came to you.

I find the stories of how people and their beloved animals came together, and what they went through to get together, magical. Especially when you live with an animal for years and your egt to know each other at a depth that is almost impossible to relate. When you know their personality, and what they do for you, how they love you, you can look back and see that they deliberately came to you. You attracted each other.

Just like anything else that you have manifested due to the Law of Attraction, you have attracted these animals into your life.

I am writing a book and making a movie about these moving and inspiring stories, and I want your story!!

It can be about an animal you live with, or a wild animal you rescued or one you encountered in a special way. Each time we interact or see an animal there is a connection, a message, an exchange of energies. Honor and enjoy them…and send me your story!

Click here to send me your story.

I am honored and pleased to hear all the wonderful stories of your animals.

One Comment

  • Cara says:

    This story is a response to the blog post ‘Law of Attraction Stories about Animals’.

    This past year, out of sheer exhaustion, I decided I’d bettter return to an old custom of mine of resting one day a week. Little did I know how difficult it would be. I woke up and realized that all the people I had been spending time with on Sunday were disappearing – moving abroad to work, for example. So it got to be very lonely.

    One day, I was confiding in a friend of mine about how lonely I felt on Sundays now that I wasn’t working. He asked me a couple of questions – ‘So, you feel a sort of emptiness now that you’re not working? You feel like you have no one to come home to?’ I nodded tearfully. And then he reminded me, ‘You know it’s not like that, right?’ Yes, I know, but I just never suspected it would be so hard…

    Anyway, a couple of days later I was coming home from a rehearsal (I am, among other things, a musician), and I saw a small crowd of people huddled around a spot in front of my building. It turned out that this ‘spot’ was a beautiful, apparently homeless kitten, sleek and elegant with brown tabby fur, a white chest and little white paws, and they were all fussing over him, and he was just lapping it up!

    People brought him food, I decided to bring him some too, and so we settled into a routine – the lady around the corner gave him breakfast, my neighbors upstairs gave him lunch – not to mention a name (Marcel) – and then I gave him a late dinner, 10 PM or so when there weren’t many people (or dogs) around.

    That first night when he crawled up in my lap, I felt like he was singing to me, in a voice like Bing Crosby, ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…’ (this was in June!) And so every night, he had his dinner, then curled up in my lap for an hour or so to take a nap and be fussed over.

    If it was raining, no problem, I spread newspapers out under the awning over our door, plopped myself down on them, then he crawled up on my knees and we talked and watched the rain come down, and the odd people and cars go by…

    And then a few months later, I caught pneumonia. I still fed him, despite everything, though I would only stay out for half an hour max. And after a few days of that, he started to look sick too. And it was cold out – that first bit of fall, as it were – and he was sneezing and feverish. And then I took a look at his eyes. They were evidently infected, so I announced to him, ‘Man, you’re not sleeping outside tonight…’

    So I called the upstairs neighbor to come and hold the door for me, and then I took Marcel in my arms, and we walked slowly up the stairs to my place. He was too exhausted with illness to protest…

    Two days later, I called my landlady and told her that I’d taken this cat in for humanitarian purposes, and it seemed that he now viewed the apartment as home. I asked hopefully, ‘Can he stay?’ She replied, ‘Oh, I think that’s up to you…’ Relieved, I gave her my decision, ‘Well, as far as I’m concerned, he absolutely can!’ And he did.

    That was a few months ago. To this day, he shows essentially no interest in returning to his old outdoor life. At most, he likes to stick his nose out when I open the kitchen window ajar to get that bit of fresh air. Just like he likes the odd bit of human food – chicken, tomato, or even a bit of Nutella – but all in all, he prefers Whiskas.

    And now he has his place on the kitchen table to eat his meals, and a nice new blue dish, and some toys, and even a kitty palace with 4 scratching posts, a lookout platform and a cubby hole.

    And my coffee table is lined with a thick towel and a blanket and his favorite pillow, where he is now peacefully sleeping with my legs arranged carefully around him. But once I have stowed the computer under the couch for the night, he will no doubt wake up and remember where ‘home’ is: his little lady’s lap…

    And I must say, I regard it as an honor that he’d agree to live with me. That he’d be willing to give up the freedom of living outdoors, having all that space, going wherever he likes, whenever he likes. To trade all that in for a life of eating whatever the delivery man brought from the market, constantly having to reckon with his little lady’s wishes (e.g. where he may and may not walk around, where he may and may not scratch), and otherwise napping, washing, hunting such ‘animals’ as a catnip mouse, and watching ‘Reality TV’ (except it’s not TV) – seeing how those humans really live from close up.

    I have never in my life met such a sweet, loving creature of any species. It brings tears to my eyes that he can love a ‘little lady’ who is over 6 feet tall, weighs 200 pounds, has a temper, and is not always willing to get up at 5 AM to feed him – that he can believe that she’s really a ‘good girl’ despite her flaws…

    God willing, I want to provide him the home of his dreams, where he can live a long, healthy, happy life. I also wouldn’t mind if the gentleman I mentioned before finally decided that if Marcel can be happy with me, maybe he could be too – but Marcel and I are happy together in our little apartment regardless. And no, I don’t think for a moment that Marcel and I met by chance…