A dog’s outer stillness can conceal a rich and expansive inner world

She takes what we have come to call mind travels, flights of fancy where her awareness wanders far beyond the room she is resting in. Sometimes, when we are quiet and receptive, Ayama and I are invited along. These shared journeys stretch our imagination and expand our understanding of consciousness itself. Over time, we’ve learned to let Sophy lead, trusting her timing and direction, allowing her to guide us into the lived experiences of animals whose worlds are very different from our own.

Many of these journeys have been illuminating. But one, in particular, stayed with me—insisting, gently but persistently, that it be shared.

A Dog from Another World
Recently, Ayama traveled with her family to Mexico and visited a zoo. There, she noticed a dog she had never seen before, alone in a large enclosure. He was a Xoloitzcuintli, an ancient breed native to Mexico. His tongue lolled loosely from his mouth, and something about him stirred both curiosity and concern.

Many dogs in Mexico live on the streets, fending for themselves each day. Seeing this dog contained, separated, observed, Ayama felt a familiar ache—the reflexive worry that arises when we imagine an animal deprived of freedom. When she asked a zoo employee about his well-being, she was assured that he was well cared for.

Still, the image lingered.

When Ayama returned home to California, Sophy greeted her with unmistakable joy. During our next animal communication session, Ayama wondered aloud if Sophy might be willing to visit the zoo dog telepathically to check in, to listen, to help us understand his world from the inside.

What followed gently dismantled several of our assumptions about what a good life for a dog should look like.

Cross Cultural Connection
When I first connected with him, the dog, who later told us his name was Chou Chou, had no experience communicating with humans in this way. He found it puzzling, even intrusive, and initially turned away. So we asked Sophy to step in.

In a way that was utterly unlike her usual quiet demeanor, Sophy bounded into his space—licking, play-bowing, barking with puppy-like enthusiasm to get his full attention. I gently suggested Sophy step back into a more respectful distance. Instantly, she did. Chou Chou relaxed. The shift was felt by all of us.

We asked him how he felt about living at the zoo. To our surprise, his answer was simple and calm.

He didn’t mind being there.

His meals were regular. The staff treated him kindly. He felt safe. There was no sense of longing, resentment, or loss in his sense of self, only steadiness.

As Chou Chou grew more comfortable, he shared something that surprised us deeply.

He had no desire to live on a leash. Or live in a human home. No interest in navigating the complex web of human rules and expectations.

Here, within the zoo, he still felt somewhat wild but without fear. Without hunger. Without constant vigilance. His life held a balance that suited him.

He reminded us—quietly, without judgment—that every dog is unique. What feels like heaven to one dog may feel unbearable to another.

Although speaking with humans was not natural for him, Chou Chou offered us a glimpse into his perception of the world.

“I see things others don’t,” he said.

Fulfillment takes many forms

In a brief, luminous flash, he showed us colors beyond our spectrum and dimensions beyond our language.

Then he added something that stopped me in my tracks:

“I am content with time.”

He was not preoccupied with the past.
He was not reaching for a different future.
His present—simple, repetitive, and predictable—was complete.

Chou Chou offered us a metaphor: visiting a foreign culture and discovering that people can live entirely differently from us and can still be deeply fulfilled even without the things we believe are essential.

Before we ended, he shared that Sophy smelled different to him, in a way he found intriguing. He was pleased by the visit and invited her to return anytime.

We closed the session feeling changed—our minds a little wider, our certainties a little softer.

And that, I believe, is a good thing.


Discover more about telepathic communication with animals at AnimalTalk.net, and explore how listening across species can expand our understanding of life itself.