The dog's name was Bronson, which is a story in itself, but he could have been named anything else, and I doubt it would have made any difference.

I remember the phone call well. It was June 12, 1996, a Wednesday, just before noon. Another lovely day in June. I have this thing about lovely days in June. I like them a lot. It had been another ho-hum morning, and I was looking forward to dashing out the door with the excuse of doing some lunch-hour errands, the real purpose of which was to play some hookey from work and enjoy the gorgeous day outdoors.

Murphy's Law says that in such circumstances the phone will ring to delay the exit, and Murphy did not disappoint. The phone rang. But I'm well enough acquainted with Murphy that when such a call arrives, I normally let it ring through to voice mail and return the call later.

But this time, something was different. I glanced at my watch and realized that I had a couple of minutes. So I figured I'd take this one last call before scurrying out into the sunshine and my afternoon off. That instantaneous decision was about to change my life.

The lady on the phone had a problem. Her beloved dog, a 3-year-old Akita, was on death's door with a rare disease. Someone had given her my number and told her that I was doing some experimental healing work with animals. She wanted to know if there anything I might be able to do for her dying dog? The details tumbled out rapidly as I took notes furiously.

Symptoms:

All the dog's owner had heard was that I was a Reiki Master doing some experimental energy healing work with horses, cats, and humans. She had only heard about it second and third hand and really didn't have a clue what it was about, and wasn't interested in any kind of detailed explainations. She just wanted her dog healthy.

I drew in a deep breath. By this point in my own journey (I was five years past my own crossing of the Rubicon--see the long version of my biography), I was working in areas of energy healing far removed from Reiki, so far removed that there was even a new name for what I thought might become a new modality.

What I did not realize was that the three years of experimental work which I thought might become a new healing modality was about to be proven obsolete in few short weeks and tossed out the window--to be replaced by something far better.

But what I did realize right away was that the dog's situation was dropping into my lap for a reason, and that one thing was obvious: I would have to say yes to the lady's request. "No promises," I repeated over and over, "but I'll do what I can."

I knew I couldn't charge a fee because I couldn't promise an outcome, but my Reiki Master training kicked in and I also knew there had to be an exchange of energy for the service. I asked the lady if she would keep notes for me while I worked so I would know what was done.

I work fast, so fast that I often forget what I just did 10 seconds ago. Remembering a whole hour was out of the question. She gladly agreed. (Those notes later were crucial to pulling together what I now call New Growth™ Energy Healing.) I went straight to work with the dog over the phone for the next hour (so much for my lunch-hour errands--none were time sensitive in any event).

Thus began my daily appointments with Bronson which defined the summer of 1996. Every day it was a new crises which needed solving. A pattern emerged. The owner would describe the crises, I would try my existing techniques (including the new ones I had just learned the day before). Some would help a bit, but today's problem required something more. So I just opened up and went with whatever flowed past me. Eventually today's crises was resolved, and I had learned something new. This went on every day through the summer.

Two weeks later, on June 26, 1996, a surprised veterinarian announced the retinas in both of the dog's eyes were completely reattached. The discolouration and discharge from eyes had significantly reduced. The steroid treatment was reduced to 25 mg/day from 100 mg.day.

While we were making progress, side-effects from the steroid treatment were evident:

You have no idea how grateful I was when daily homeopathic treatment commenced June 26th. My work all by itself was hitting a plateau and I knew something more was needed. Happily, Bronson's loving owner had found a homeopathic practitioner who had a series of remedies to assist in healing the disease in dogs. Between the energy work I was doing, the homeopathy, the reduced steroids, and the strict diet the owner had put Bronson on, we started to make some progress.

During that summer Bronson would teach me each step of the way. I discovered working with him in the upper dimensions is just like walking a dog on the material plane. Keep him on a lead so he doesn't run off. He was always co-operative when I was trying something new and it was working. But if I tried something new and it wasn't quite on the mark he'd let me know. For instance, one day in the midst of working with some very subtle high vibration energies, I snapped my fingers. I felt the energy connection between me and the dog sever. Finger snapping at that point was the wrong thing to do and Bronson let me know it. He sat up and started barking at me. Now when 100+ pounds (50+ kilos) of dog starts barking at you, you pay attention. I do not snap my fingers at that sensitive point any more.

By his birthday in late September, he had stabilized, and my work started tapering off from every day to every other day and then to weekly. And Bronson had returned to one of his favourite activities, chasing his Frisbee in the back yard. In fact, his owner got him a new Frisbee for his 4th birthday that autumn because Bronson had chewed up the old one chasing it. The picture at the top of this page was taken in October, 1996, three months after the veterinarians said Bronson would be dead.

Fast forward to December, 1996, and here's how Bronson was doing:

By the end of 1997 the only symptoms remaining consisted of (1) a slight blue colour in the eyes and (2) the pigment loss in the skin has not returned. Homeopathic treatment ended in early summer, 1997, and by late summer treatment with Reiki and my energy work had ended. Steroid treatment of 5 mg/day on alternate days continued for another year into 1998 and then ended.

By the year 2000 Bronson was doing just fine, thank you. At seven-years-old he still delighted in chasing Frisbees and squirrels (although not necessarily in that order). As long as he maintained his emotional equilibrium and stayed in a low-stress environment, there were no symptoms. He was a happy dog, but I daresay, not your average dog.

Bronson went on to live a normal doggy life to the ripe old age of 12+ years, passing peacefully in January, 2005, a remarkably long life for a breed which normally lives only to eight years. I shall miss him, for without Bronson, there might not have been New Growth ™ Energy Healing. Thank you, Bronson.

That summer of 1996 changed a lot of things for me. My mother had passed away (peacefully) bringing a close to a long karmic script for me. By fall, the entire structure of my energy work had changed, and some of my dharma was emerging.

Solving the daily crises with Bronson had brought out my Virgo in full force. What works? How is it best organized? How can it be made to work better? I didn't have a name for it then, but at the end of 1998 I was presented with the name New Growth™ Energy Healing. Yes, it continued to grow, modify, and evolve for some time, but now, years later, it is for the most part a mature modality. But the lessons and structure Bronson taught me in the summer of 1996 remain the foundation.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to tell you about how the dog got his name. The lady who brought Bronson into my life got the dog when he was a year old. The previous owner had the animal when he was a puppy and named him. It seems the previous owner was a fan of the late actor, Charles Bronson, and the puppy bore a vague resemblance to the actor; hence the name.

Go figure.

But then long ago I had a sheep dog named Igor (a shaggy dog story that lasted 15 years, far too long to tell here), so who am I to comment on the name of a dog? And like I said, the dog's name didn't make any difference. The lessons were what counted.