For years, I’ve firmly believed that our pets aren’t just companions; they are profound teachers who bring invaluable lessons and purpose into our lives. With this conviction in mind, I sought to deepen my connection with my pets by enrolling in a course on pet communication. I was eager to enhance my intuitive abilities and develop a deeper understanding of my furry friends.
In Malaysia, there are only a few institutions offering such courses, and I chose a two-day program priced at RM1080. The course ran from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., with frequent breaks, and was conducted in Mandarin with about 16 students per session. I hoped to come away with practical tools to improve my communication with animals, but unfortunately, the reality fell far short of my expectations.
The instructor, let’s call her K, spent the majority of the course sharing personal stories and opinions rather than teaching. She briefly covered a few foundational topics, including the Phylogenetic Tree, chakra points in humans and animals, aura and energy fields, Freud’s Iceberg Model, and Dr. David Hawkins’ Scale of Consciousness. But these were concepts I could easily have found online.
What was particularly frustrating was that K wasted about 1.5 out of the two days on irrelevant discussions. The remaining time was rushed, and she didn’t bother to explain the topics in any depth, simply instructing us to “google them” instead. I came to learn about pet communication, but what I got was a poorly organized class that felt more like a personal storytelling session.
K’s anecdotes were not only off-topic but seemed self-indulgent. Many were about her time at university in Taiwan or with her professor, but these had no real connection to the course. It seemed like she wanted us to relate to her journey, but in reality, much of what she shared could have been left unsaid. Instead of teaching us, she rambled about her own opinions and past experiences.
At one point, she even stated that pet communication is “literally just speaking gibberish that comes out of your mind.” Her words were, “你就烏白講 (闽南语； 中文是 胡说) 就可以啊，脑袋出现什么你就说而已,” essentially telling us that whatever pops into our heads is good enough. Hearing that was shocking to say the least.
We also wasted an entire day on ice-breaking activities. What should have taken half a day stretched on endlessly, with K taking every opportunity to talk about herself whenever someone introduced themselves. Her comments were not just long-winded but irrelevant to the course.
To make matters worse, her language was loose and often inappropriate. She frequently used the word “死” (“death”) casually and in a very vulgar manner, which I found particularly off-putting. Her tone resembled cheap gossip, lacking any sense of professionalism. Phrases like “我是死的耶” (“I’m basically dead”) and “我的狗 ‘做死’/‘害死’ 我” (“My dog literally made me do this” in a negative light) were jarring, and her repeated complaints about how she “had to” get into the pet communication field were off-putting.
She also imposed a strict rule that we had to be vegan for seven days before the course. While I respect personal choices regarding diet, this felt intrusive and unrelated to the topic at hand.
Despite months of planning, K mentioned during the course that she might need to step away to handle other commitments, like answering customer calls or providing services to others. This was unacceptable—these were not emergencies but rather a lack of professional boundaries on her part.
Throughout the course, K veered off-topic constantly. For instance, she shared a story about calming a pregnant woman’s baby during a tarot reading session and somehow linked it to vegetarianism. She also spent an inordinate amount of time discussing how her dog’s death led her to the industry, and then spiraled into lectures about why we should all be vegetarian. This became a very “white-veganism” topic, focusing on the idea that consuming animal products means absorbing their energy from when they were slaughtered.
K also delved into unrelated subjects like religion and politics, commenting on negative stereotypes about Muslims and corruption, and touching on incest—none of which had anything to do with pet communication. At one point, she talked about crystals, but again, there was no meaningful link to the course topic.
Instead of learning how to communicate with pets, the course felt like a drawn-out mingling session. I paid more than a thousand ringgit for what turned out to be a complete waste of time, money, and effort. On top of that, being forced into a vegetarian lifestyle before the course made the whole experience even more frustrating.
We did have a handful of breakout sessions where we were paired up to exchange pet details and practice communicating. While it was fun to receive validation from the pet owners, K’s feedback was vague and unhelpful. She instructed us only to “visualize we are the pet” but didn’t offer any real guidance on how to do this properly. When each team presented their findings, K gave no clear pointers or suggestions to help us improve or gain more accurate insights. Her comments were so vague that they felt dismissive—she’d say a few general sentences and then move on, offering no real feedback on how accurate our attempts were.
The final straw came when K mishandled our personal data. In the WhatsApp group chat, she asked for address confirmations before sending out certificates. Instead of contacting us individually, she shared everyone’s names and addresses in the group chat. I pointed out that this was a violation of personal data, and while she removed mine, she continued to share others’ addresses. It was shocking to think that she had been doing this for nine years.
As for the certificate, it was sent in a flimsy, unprotected B5 envelope months after the course. I attended in March, they sent it in July, and I finally received it in late September, wrinkled and poorly packaged. The only protection was a sticker that read, “DO NOT FOLD OR CREASE THE LETTER AND THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”
I am deeply dissatisfied and disappointed. I would strongly discourage anyone from enrolling in her courses. If K believes I should offer private feedback to help her improve, I would say this: it’s not my responsibility. I wasn’t paid to attend this course—I paid a significant amount out of my own pocket. I am under no obligation to help you improve your syllabus, nor was I compensated in any way. I do, however, have the right to share my experience.
My verdict: unless the following areas improve, K should not be teaching:
- A proper, transparent syllabus
- Professional training in coaching
- Establishing boundaries and sticking to them
- Personal development (maybe therapy) to work through unresolved issues
- Grounding work to energetically rewire herself
- Education in modern spiritual practices
- Familiarity with laws regarding personal data in Malaysia
In the end, this course contributed nothing to my spiritual growth. Any progress I’ve made is purely through my own efforts. K will not receive any recognition from me, and I will never reference this course or its certificate in my future work.
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