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A dog who only turns left, a friendless ferret, even a hen with PTSD – you need to call TV’s pet psychic… who says she really CAN talk to the animals


When pet psychic Beth Lee-Crowther reads an animal’s mind, it’s normally because the owner has a burning question: Why does their dog refuse to turn right? Does one of my chickens have post-traumatic stress disorder? Might my cat object to being cloned? In my house, the question is posed by my teenage sons: ‘Which one of us does our dog like best?’

Welcome to Beth’s world. Her TV show starts this week and, although its main stars are animals, viewers will learn far more about the people who own them. (My lesson is that there are zero limits to children’s sibling rivalry!)

Beth was just 11 when she realised a pony was telling her about its bad back. Forty years later, she’s a full-time pet medium with regular appearances on radio and TV, and a bestselling book.

‘Imagine you are reading a novel, and the author paints a picture in your mind. I get an image like that,’ she says. ‘Sometimes it’s moving, like a video, and there will be words, phrases, dates, a voice in my head. The animal has put it in there.’

Welcome to Beth’s world. Her TV show starts this week and, although its main stars are animals, viewers will learn far more about the people who own them. (My lesson is that there are zero limits to children’s sibling rivalry!). Pictured: Psychic Beth Lee-Crowther

Welcome to Beth’s world. Her TV show starts this week and, although its main stars are animals, viewers will learn far more about the people who own them. (My lesson is that there are zero limits to children’s sibling rivalry!). Pictured: Psychic Beth Lee-Crowther

Beth was just 11 when she realised a pony was telling her about its bad back. Forty years later, she’s a full-time pet medium with regular appearances on radio and TV, and a bestselling book

Beth was just 11 when she realised a pony was telling her about its bad back. Forty years later, she’s a full-time pet medium with regular appearances on radio and TV, and a bestselling book

Pictured: Beth with her dog Misty (Moo)

Pictured: Beth with her dog Misty (Moo)

Dogs are the most communicative, cats less so. Beth has worked with countless creatures: llamas, camels, parrots, snakes, geckos. ‘I thought, ‘What’s a camel going to say?’ ‘ she says. ‘But I was blown away by their emotion. It was magical.

‘I think animals are talking to us humans all the time, it’s just that we’re not processing it. Animals see talking to me as an opportunity to get something off their chest.

‘Imagine if you went around all day and nobody was listening to you, it would be very frustrating. So often it comes with a sense of relief, they can say what they need to say, and I pass that on to their owner.’

She’s never felt burdened by her gift and, for all the naysayers, she’s never cashed in on it. She doesn’t charge for her services although, with spiralling demand, she admits she might have to start.

‘I do it for the animals. It’s my mission to share, to prove what I do is real and possible,’ she says.

Britain is a nation of animal-lovers with an estimated dog population of 12 million and approximately ten million cats, so perhaps a pet psychic getting her own TV show was entirely foreseeable. Even for those of us without second sight.

Beth begins with a ‘chicken reading’ in her hometown of Malvern, Worcestershire. Petal, a white leghorn, ought to be laying 280 eggs a year but her nesting box is empty. Beth says the bird tells her that she lost her best hen friend in a fox attack and she’s too anxious to start laying again. Her owner reassures the hen, via Beth, that their electric fence has been upgraded. We can only hope Petal blossoms – though viewers don’t immediately find out.

They do, however, see the outcome of Beth’s visit to Yogi, a huge fluff ball of a dog which doesn’t much like leaving the house and then, when he does, will only turn left.

Yogi has got the better of dog trainers and psychologists, and, in a bid for a cure has been experimented on with CBD oil derived from cannabis. Now it’s down to Beth. She says Yogi confides he’s been frightened by loud noises. His owner remembers how her last home was surrounded by fields used for shooting.

When Beth revisits weeks later, Yogi exits his house without having to be dragged… and turns right.

Beth is a tremendous communicator, warm and empathetic. Having had animals since she says a black and white rabbit accosted her in a pet shop and begged: ‘Take me home’, she understands the deep bond between owners and pets.

Britain is a nation of animal-lovers with an estimated dog population of 12 million and approximately ten million cats, so perhaps a pet psychic getting her own TV show was entirely foreseeable. Even for those of us without second sight

Britain is a nation of animal-lovers with an estimated dog population of 12 million and approximately ten million cats, so perhaps a pet psychic getting her own TV show was entirely foreseeable. Even for those of us without second sight

With her specs perched on her head, smart jackets and modest make-up, she’s a far cry from the stereotypical fairground psychic with a headscarf, hoops and bejewelled fingers.

This is a woman who takes her work so seriously she’s done a counselling course to help the animals’ owners, too.

Beth meets a Hertfordshire couple who treat their rag doll cat Arya, 11, like a child. They want Beth to ask Arya’s permission to clone her so she can live on after death. Via Beth, Arya suggests to her owners that a cloned cat might look the same but would have a different soul. It may not have been the answer the couple were hoping for, but it’s certainly the wisest one.

Later, in Swansea, South Wales, Beth meets – and is bitten by – a ferret called Misty. The animal eats warm pureed chicken thighs and is cradled like a baby and sung lullabies. It has its own bedroom, decorated in lilac, and a cushion with its face on it. Misty’s owner is bothered that her pet might be lonely and want a ferrety companion.

Beth passes on the message that Misty would like more friends. The same advice could be directed at the ferret’s overly-devoted owner.

Beth is unbothered by people who don’t believe in what she does. ‘They say it’s rubbish and then seconds later they produce their phone with a photo of their dog on it and say, ‘Can you tell me if he’s OK?’

‘You’ve got to be a bit gutsy to say you can talk to animals, but I am passionate, and that gives me courage.

‘I think everyone can talk to animals on some level – we’ve just forgotten how.’

I ask her what she would be if she were an animal. She reminds me a bit of an Afghan Hound with her cloud of long, blonde hair.

‘No!’ she remonstrates. ‘I’d be a scruffy little Jack Russell – quirky, mischievous and determined to challenge the accepted order.’

How did she do with Sarah’s less-than-obedient lurcher?

Pictured: Sarah Oliver's pet dog named Khyber

Pictured: Sarah Oliver’s pet dog named Khyber

Beth: He is exceptionally sensitive to noise.

How true! When I open the cutlery drawer, Khyber immediately slinks off to his basket under the desk in my office. He can’t even bear the noise of a rowdy family dinner and will only return once it’s over in the hope of a scraped plate.

Beth: He wants to dance.

Embarrassing but true. Khyber’s forever hopping up on his hind legs and asking for a twirl.

Beth: He thinks he’s quite well behaved.

No, he’s a sight hound. Show him a squirrel and he’s gone. He practises selective deafness when it comes to any command he doesn’t want to obey.

Beth: His soul-mate is called Joan or Joanne.

No, it’s me. Or it better had be since I’m the one who feeds and walks him.

lThe Pet Psychic: What’s Your Dog Thinking? is on Channel 5, on Tuesday, at 7pm.



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