“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

The family all knew, subconsciously again, that the dog had to go. Everyone was overly nice to the dog, so no one would know consciously, what they knew subconsciously—that you considered the dog the symbol of failure. It was a closely guarded secret by all, hidden, but not entirely, from the conscious minds of those involved. No one wanted the dog killed, but it was not coincidence that you yourself loosened the dog’s collar, or that your wife was the one who left the dog; for symbolically the two of you were connected here. Now give us a moment. The act itself was symbolic, and the dog picked up all of your attitudes through its own sense of communication.

You had not wanted such a dog until you had room and a larger place, and in the past you had not gotten the dog because subconsciously you hoped you would have more land within a brief, foreseeable future. When you bought the dog, and particularly since your wife was so for the idea, you feared that she also took this as a sign that you had made your mind up to the fact, or faced the fact, that you would be where you are for some time.

The dog had to go, but it had to appear accidental. And this is exactly what happened. Now we will take up the dog’s death later, but give us a moment. The threads of activity are so enmeshed, and I see them as a whole, and must unravel them for you. As Joseph said earlier this is not to say you cannot have a dog, and enjoy him, with a different attitude.

If a dark angry mongrel follows you down the street and you know it and you say to yourself, “It is a fine day and I am alone and there is no dog behind me,” and it yaps at your feet and you say, “It is a lovely day and no dog yaps at my feet,” and it growls at your ankles and you run as fast as you can saying all the time, “Nothing chases me,” and you dare not look back; then in your mind the dog springs from a dog to a tiger, to an unnamable terror. And you do not look around to see that it is merely a small dog, but in your mind you build these fears. If you stop and turn around to see what is bothering you and you find a small dog, then you take a deep breath of relief and wish you had turned around sooner. [...]

[...] You try to tint the fears with smiles, you try to pat it as you would a dog in hopes that it will not bite (words lost) you. [...]

[...] Your dog has been reincarnated, in his terms, looking much as he did before.

(Our dog Mischa died in 1963. [...]

[...] I hadn’t intended that any remark of mine about the dog lead to this kind of data, nor did Jane interpret it that way. [...]

(“Later when I took a brief nap I mentally imagined myself beating the black-haired dog—and my mental right arm really went bang, bang, bang, banging wooden blocks on the dog’s head really fast, and for a minute I couldn’t stop it. Finally I did, and saw myself petting the dog, brushing it, and telling it I was sorry....”

[...] The first one involved Bill Gallagher, the second one Jane’s and my confrontation with a pack of large wild dogs. Some of the dogs bore human heads, and some human bodies and canine heads. [...]

(“This afternoon I interpreted some of Rob’s latest dreams, one in particular involving me, beating a black-haired dog on the head. The dog was my spontaneous self according to my interpretation.”

“Your dog’s illness was incipient. [...] The fact is, you were not able to give your dog that added emotional vitality at a time when he needed it most. [...]

“Animals, like people, sense when they are a burden, and the dog sensed that he was a burden, and also something of a nuisance. I would have preferred that you did not ask me this question, but since you did, and since you both loved the dog, it deserves an answer.”

1. Seth first mentioned viruses in the 17th session for January 26, 1964, when I asked him to comment upon the recent deaths of our dog, Mischa, at the age of 11, and of a pair of kittens Jane had obtained from the janitor of the art gallery where she worked part time. [...]

[...] In basement I find four or five young men laying on the floor, each with an ill dog beside him, at least the dogs looked sick. [...]

[...] A dog, then, is not limited to being a dog in other existences.

(Many sessions ago, Seth told us he had a dog fragment personality still here on Earth. [...]

[...] My dog is gone.

(“Connection with a dog.” [...] Leonard Yaudes has a girlfriend who has a dog; occasionally they leave the dog in Leonard’s apartment when they go out on a date. [...]

The dog was legitimate, but too far afield. [...] The friend has a girlfriend with a dog. She takes the dog with her on her visits there.

[...] Connection with a dog.

([Joel:] “A stray dog mysteriously came and has stayed. [...] I feel maybe this dog has a purpose in being there. [...]

Now, first of all, the dog is not a fragment out of nowhere. [...] The dog is an extremely psychic animal, in your terms. [...]

[...] A dog may be a symbol to you of natural joy, for example, or of freedom. After seeing an accident in which a dog is killed, then dogs may mean something entirely different to you.

[...] The dog’s accident may be a dream experience, for that matter, that then changes your conscious symbolic feeling toward dogs in the waking state. [...]

[...] His wife may be allergic to dogs or hair. I think of a dog with wet hair, a shaggy one. [...]

(The material on a dog reminded me that the Bristol stiffeners I enclosed tonight’s test paper in were the same two in which I had enclosed the test photo for the 11th envelope test, in the 194th session. The photo was of our dog, Mischa, now dead. [...]

[...] Something to do with two people who have a dog.

(For the test object I picked a black and white photograph of a dog Jane had owned when I married her. The dog, Mischa, is now dead. [...]

(The photo does have verticals in it, and the dog’s form can be seen as cone shaped. Our dog was certainly of personal concern to us, the test object is a photograph, my initials are not directly connected with it as far as being visible, and as far as we know there is no wallet connection with the photo, etc. [...]

[...] Our dog sits before the Bronx, NY, house of Jane’s aunt; Jane said she well remembers the peculiar blue and red cast of the bricks. [...]

Your dog’s illness was incipient. [...] The fact is, you were not able to give your dog that added emotional vitality at a time when he needed it most. [...]

Animals, like people, sense when they are a burden, and the dog sensed that he was a burden, and also something of a nuisance. I would have preferred that you did not ask me this question, but since you did and since you both loved the dog, it deserves an answer.

(“Seth, Jane has wanted to know what was going on here in the house during the time our dog Mischa died, and when the two cats also died.”)

(Pause.) Your dog dream (of March 31, 1979) also somewhat symbolizes that dilemma: do you go with your head, forcing a conscious decision, or do you go with your instincts, symbolized by the dog’s form? [...]

[...] Ruburt thinks of an old photograph of himself, with his dog. [...] There is a Baltimore connection, in that Baltimore is mentioned on the pepper can, as explained; also, Jane has a photo of herself taken on a set of the typical white Baltimore stone steps, with her dog, Mischa, now dead.

[...] Ruburt thinks of an old photograph of himself, with his dog. [...]

(This would be a different photo, it seems, than the one of Jane and her dog in Baltimore.)

2. I did get fleabites Friday from the Blumenthal’s dogs and the body used the situation to accelerate the… natural immunization? [...]

[...] It is a dog fragment.” Frank Withers would not give us the location of this dog: “No.”

[...] Dogs, cats, manatees, lions, dolphins, apes, bats, whales, shrews, sloths, and deer are mammals, to name just a few. [...]

Some years after the 4th session was held, and without telling us anything else about the subject, Seth volunteered the information that his dog fragment had died. [...]

[...] Look at it this way: An animal, not necessarily just a wild one in some native forest, but an ordinary dog or cat, reacts in a certain fashion. [...] A cat does not anticipate danger from a penned dog four blocks away, however, nor bother wondering what would happen if that dog were to escape and find the cat’s cozy yard.

Many people, however, do not pay attention to everything in their environments, but through their beliefs concentrate only upon “the ferocious dog four blocks away.” [...]

[...] If you want to (long pause) feed a dog in the physical world — and he is on the other side of the door — you must open it. In the inner world you or the dog can walk through the door without effort, because desire is action. [...]

[...] The dog’s desire for food led him to walk magically through the door, for the desires of the natural creature are satisfied (pause) with an ease that has nothing to do with your ideas of work. [...]

[...] Gus, the neighbors’ dog, in an intense desire to get the food Rob holds, walks right through the glass door — signifying the importance of desire in bringing about the magical satisfaction of needs. [...]

It is a dog fragment.

[...] Can you give us the location of this dog?”)