Venus Read online

  First published and distributed in the United Kingdom by:

  Hay House UK Ltd, Astley House, 33 Notting Hill Gate, London W11 3JQ

  Tel: +44 (0)20 3675 2450; Fax: +44 (0)20 3675 2451; www.hayhouse.co.uk

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  Hay House Publishers India, Muskaan Complex, Plot No.3, B-2,

  Vasant Kunj, New Delhi 110 070

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  Raincoast Books, 2440 Viking Way, Richmond, B.C. V6V 1N2

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  Text and images © Diana Cooper, 2014

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted or otherwise be copied for public or private use, other than for ‘fair use’ as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  The information given in this book should not be treated as a substitute for professional medical advice; always consult a medical practitioner. Any use of information in this book is at the reader’s discretion and risk. Neither the author nor the publisher can be held responsible for any loss, claim or damage arising out of the use, or misuse, of the suggestions made, the failure to take medical advice or for any material on third party websites.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-78180-385-1 in print

  ISBN 978-1-78180-438-4 in ePub format

  ISBN 978-1-78180-437-7 in Mobipocket format

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  About the Author

  Join the Hay House Family

  Chapter 1

  My New Home

  22 April 2011

  Today is a momentous day. Here I am at last!

  I wish I had a mirror. I can’t wait to see what I look like! I’m told I’m small, fluffy and white with one brown ear, a brown patch over one eye and a gorgeous, feathery tail. My grandfather was a Papillon (a ‘butterfly’ dog, made famous by Marie Antoinette), and my mother was a Jack Russell. What an amazing combination — rough and tough mixed with soft and feminine. My angels helped my soul make this choice and they are dancing right now, celebrating my safe delivery.

  Oh, I wonder is the world ready for me?

  What do you think?

  Here I am!

  21 June

  I’m eight weeks old and ooh! a lady is coming to see my litter any minute. She wants to choose one of us. Everyone is excited and I feel very nervous. I wonder if it will be me? Fluff went to his new home yesterday and it seems quiet without him, even though there are still six of us.

  The doorbell rings and I wait expectantly. Two ladies walk into the room and their angels are right behind them; one is golden and the other is green and silver. It’s a very small space and the puppy pen takes up most of the area, so the visitors sit side by side on the sofa. We puppies are let out of the cage and my brothers and sisters jump all over them.

  Dogs are very good at tuning into people’s thoughts and feelings. Suddenly, I sense which lady is looking for a puppy and that she will choose me.

  Animals have two Guardian Angels and I’m told we need them. When I see both of my angels talking to the lady’s golden one, I know I was right. So while the other puppies pull at the visitors’ hair, leap onto their shoulders and lick them, I sit quietly at my new mum’s feet. The golden angel whispers into her ear. She smiles and picks me up and I relax on her lap. It feels good and very familiar. We look at each other and it sounds corny but… we fall in love!!

  ‘This one’s for me,’ the lady says, smiling. A whole host of angels appear in the room cheering and clapping in joy.

  My new mum leaves some money and says she will come back for me tomorrow. I have collywobbles in my tummy.

  My brothers and sisters keep telling me it’s important to be my new mum’s boss. I have to be top dog, they say, and they give me all sorts of ideas how to do this. Oh dear, I like her and want to please her, but they say I have to uphold dog-hood! Is that for the highest good?

  22 June

  My new mum is coming to collect me any minute! The doorbell rings and I nearly jump out of my skin. Once again she sits on the sofa with her friend, Dee, and strokes me. My yellow angels seem to merge with her golden one around us. They are helping us to get to know each other energetically and it feels safe and tingly warm.

  Dee turns to Mum suddenly and says, ‘Have you thought of a name for her?’

  I prick up my ears because I’ve been trying to tell them my name telepathically. If they are really on my wavelength they will get it right. Please, please listen. Mum smiles and says, ‘Yes, I have. She’s Venus!’

  Hooray!

  Dee looks amazed and says, ‘That’s what I was going to suggest!’

  Of course you were, I thought. I’ve been telling you telepathically! Thank goodness they were tuned in. How dreadful if I’d been called Sweetie or Patch. I couldn’t have borne that.

  I’m a special puppy and I need a special name — Venus, the Morning Star, High Priestess of Atlantis, Goddess of Love. That’s me!

  Mum carries me outside and I snuggle into her arms. I’d like to lick her face but I content myself with licking her hand and she seems to like that. Dee gets into the car and Mum places me carefully on Dee’s lap, then slides into the driving seat.

  Mum calls in Archangel Michael to protect us on the journey and a deep blue light shimmers round the car. So that’s what the blue light is! I’ve seen it sometimes hovering around one of us puppies or around a person. There really are archangels. That’s cool!

  We drive home carefully and Mum seems very pleased to have me and I’m pleased to have her — so far.

  I sleep in a little basket by Mum’s bed and every so often she leans down and strokes my ears. She says this is my bed but my aim is to slee
p on her bed. One day I will. My angels know I’m safe so they are waiting and watching quietly on the other side of the room. They say their task is to stay near me and observe, unless I need help or ask for it.

  23 June

  Very early in the morning Mum brings me downstairs and puts me outside on the soft grass. It’s getting light and the birds are singing the dawn chorus. My angels communicate that each morning the archangels give the birds messages about nature and cosmic energies, and they sing them in for the day. In ancient times the people and animals understood this information but now the daily cosmic news only touches us unconsciously.

  While Mum and I sit on the swinging seat in the garden, I lie on her lap and we watch the sunrise and enjoy the peace of nature until other people start to stir at 7 a.m. This is true Zen contentment. Perhaps I’m to be a type of Buddhist contemplative canine, spreading peace wherever I go.

  Zen contentment

  Mum introduces me to the postman. He’s squat and podgy and wears blue shorts. I can tell he doesn’t believe in angels because they can’t get close to him at all. Mum carries me over to him and he strokes me, but instinctively I don’t like him. I tell her this with my pathetically small bark but she says, ‘I hope you’ll be friends.’ She must be crazy.

  The podgy postman touches me gingerly and says in a nasal voice, ‘Nice girl.’ I can smell that he’s scared of dogs.

  My angels know I don’t like him and try to tell me that we should love our enemies. I quite agree with them — I’ll love all my enemies except this one. That’s my free will on Earth. Forget about love and light, perhaps I’ll be a warrior dog.

  Strangely enough, I haven’t missed my brothers and sisters. Mum and I are cuddling or playing all the time. I make her laugh and she thinks I’m wonderful, a perfect pooch. (Of course, she’s right!)

  She tells me to ask my Guardian Angels when I need help and they’ll assist me, if it’s for my highest good. I tell Mum telepathically that I saw a golden angel with her and a green and silver one with Dee when they came to see me for the first time. ‘Ah, you are a special dog! You’re psychic!’ she exclaims. ‘You were seeing our Guardian Angels. All humans have one who looks after them.’

  Oh, I’m only a few weeks old and already I realize that this world is an amazing place.

  Afternoon

  I’m looking forward to meeting Brutus, the cat. He belongs to Mum’s lodger Elisabeth and, apparently, he’s very big. I hope we’ll be friends.

  24 June

  Whew, I’ve seen Brutus walking across the lawn. And he’s not very big — he’s huge and terrifying. Think of a tiger with burning eyes and scale it down to wildcat size. Elisabeth, Mum’s lodger, found him in France as a kitten, stranded up a tree surrounded by baying mongrels. She rescued him and brought him back to England. The angels of humans and the angels of animals work together to create the synchronicities that bring the right person and pet together, but how can that ferocious beast be matched with anyone?

  And what is Brutus doing in my life? I’m a sweet, gentle creature. Were my angels asleep at my pre-life consultation?

  Mum tells me that he’s that size in the summer. In the winter he grows an enormous coat and looks even bigger. Help! If the podgy postman was terrified of him, I could understand it. Apparently, when Brutus was put on a diet, he would rush at Mum or Elisabeth or anyone else capable of opening a tin, clasp their legs with his paws and bite them. I tremble.

  Luckily, Mum is with me in the kitchen when Brutus strides in like an emperor. My angels tell me love conquers everything, so I wag my tail nervously at him and act friendly. I’m hoping it works on this tiger-like creature. At first he ignores me, so I approach him with my tail wagging. He hisses. I turn and run away fast.

  My beautiful yellow angel smiles. ‘Good dog, Venus. Wisdom is the better part of valour.’ If that means keep away from large hissing cats, I agree.

  Elisabeth is tall, fair and kind. I like her immediately. ‘Hallo Venus. I see you’ve met my big boy.’ She’s looking at Brutus with adoration. ‘Now you be nice to this little puppy,’ she cautions him. In response Brutus glowers at me disdainfully and stalks off stiff-legged, like a feline Mr Darcy.

  Elisabeth strokes me softly. Her angel is shimmering pink and gold and is pouring love onto her, but humans don’t seem to be able to feel it like I do. I can tell she’s warm-hearted and kind, yet she looks very sad. I hope she’ll tell me about it. Perhaps my mission is to be a counselling canine?

  25 June

  I’m sitting on Mum’s knee in the conservatory when one of my angels murmurs to me. ‘You’re a dog, Venus. Your life mission is just to be yourself.’

  Suddenly I understand. Of course, I’m an angel dog.

  Chapter 2

  The Battle of the Food

  26 June

  Mum is feeding me the same dry dog food that I had in my first home. She says it’s because that’s what I’m used to and she doesn’t want to change it too quickly, but it’s the cheapest available and I, Venus, deserve better. Besides, this miserable food has a grey aura, so it can’t possibly be good for me. The food we eat affects our frequency so, as a psychic, spiritual, angel hound, I need the best food. That’s obvious isn’t it? My siblings told me to turn up my nose and leave food I don’t fancy, then see what happens, but I have a better idea. I tell my Guardian Angels that I need good food because I’m a special dog and ask them to make sure that Mum realizes this. I think she’s more likely to listen to the angels than to me!

  Lunchtime

  I’m starving. Very tempted to eat that dried stuff, but will persist.

  Mid-afternoon

  Hooray, Mum has given me some good dog food from a tin, which tastes much better, so I eat it all. I won that one. Thank you, angels.

  Poor me! I’m starving

  28 June

  Mum is trying me on all sorts of different foods now. I’m an extremely clever puppy. If I don’t like what she gives me I ask my Guardian Angels for help, then I turn up my nose — and walk away from my plate. Lo and behold! She gives me something else. Actually, I’m getting quite good at this. I sort of sniff in the air, wrinkle my nose and look as if I’m being given inferior food. It works every time. The vet says I must not be allowed to turn into a fussy princess, whatever that is. Hmmm… a princess sounds rather fab. Me a princess, angel dog! And all I have to do is turn up my nose at food I don’t fancy! Princess Venus, how’s that?

  Oops… Mum realizes that she blesses her own food but not mine. I watch intently as she places her hands over my bowl of food and says, ‘Thank you for this food and bless it.’ It’s unbelievable. The food seems to light up and, when I eat it, I’m so sensitive I can feel it being digested and absorbed more easily. I hope she always remembers to do this.

  29 June

  I had a shock this morning. I’m snoozing on a soft blanket in the conservatory when Brutus, the tabby, appears. Framed in the doorway, he really is vaster and scarier than I thought. I don’t believe he’s really a cat at all.

  Life is about choices and right now I can lie here and pretend to be invisible or I can be friendly. I decide it’s better to be sociable, so I jump up and skip across the room towards him. When he sees me his golden eyes pierce me. I stop dead and take a few paces backwards. Another choice. I can run away or try to engage him in play. I quickly choose the play path and stretch my front legs, putting my bottom in the air with my tail wagging and I gaze at him, my eyes shining with excitement and hope. He bats me away disdainfully with his paw. Wrong choice! Perhaps love conquers everything except Brutus? I feel quite dismal and leave him alone.

  I lie on my blanket again, chanting the dog mantra ‘Everyone loves dogs and dogs love everyone.’ My yellow angel is very close to me, stroking my aura to help me feel better. The other one is pink and is watching from a distance.

  Later

  But I’m a dog and I shall go on trying.

  30 June

  Mum has just slipped dow
n to the shops to buy me some chicken. It’s most unfortunate that Mum doesn’t eat meat and there are no scraps, so I’ve got to encourage this chicken-buying. She says there’s no point in giving me dried stuff any more because I just don’t eat it. Hooray! I’m definitely a top chicken-eating, princess-angel dog.

  She’s cooking that chicken. I sit by the oven wagging my tail and grinning. She smiles, ‘It’s worth getting you chicken just to see you look so happy.’ I must remember that. She likes to see me wagging my tail. Happiness radiates a positive vibe that makes people want to give you what you want. It tastes as good as it smells. Doggylicious! Not sure if that’s a real word, but you know what I mean. I very carefully move all the rice and vegetables with my nose and leave them in a little pile by the plate on the floor.

  1 July

  Lots of friends are visiting and I know that really they are coming to see me. They all pet me and say that I’m gorgeous! They play with me and bring me toys to chew. But there’s a downside to these visitors — they all give Mum different advice. Their angels come too, because angels love to see newborn animals, just as humans do.

  Megan comes this morning. I like her and I sit on her knee quite happily — until she says Mum must decide whether I should eat dry food or tinned. Mum’s decision! What about me? It’s my tummy. Then she says that if I don’t eat my food immediately, Mum should take it away! Grrr! I narrow my eyes and glare at her. She doesn’t know what’s right for me! I eat chicken, only chicken.

  Mum thinks Megan is a canine expert, so she dishes out my food and when I ignore it, she suddenly takes the plate away! Oh no! What shall I do? I decide to pretend it doesn’t bother me.