International Psychic, Author & Earth Mysteries Investigator

Betsey Lewis 

Walking the Talk: Saying Goodbye to Sparky - An Animal Communicator's story of euthanasia

As an aspiring beginner horse rider in my early 30’s I was invited to ride my friend’s horse Springbok Park, or “Sparky” as we knew him. He was a thoroughbred that was dumped after his short racing career came to an end (as is the fate with most of these horses once their alleged usefulness is over). A big, shiny coppery chestnut with a thin white blaze, he was a beautiful gentle being. When my friend could not keep Sparky any longer I offered to take him in – by then I had four of my own horses and had moved to a farm. Sparky could enjoy his last years in big grassy paddocks surrounded by a couple of mares that he adored so much. And he has a very special place in my heart, being the one that allowed me to truly discover what it means to grow wings on the back of a horse. 

A couple of years went by and when Sparky was 27 years old, I felt that the time for him to leave this life was approaching. He was increasingly struggling with the coldness of the winters and the heat of the summers. Among other chronic health issues, his flexor tendons finally gave in, making walking a slow and uncomfortable process. My increasing sense of “knowing” this was then confirmed by Sparky through telepathic communication - so we decided on the day, dug the hole and contacted the veterinarian. Throughout this process, I kept myself very close to him, in particular on an emotional and spiritual level. It was a beautiful honour to support my friend through his last days on this plane and somehow be there for him as his spirit prepared to transition and embark on the next leg of his journey. 

On the morning of the designated day, we took him for a last walk and it was incredible to see this old horse, usually riddled with stiffness and shuffling along, walking next to us at a brisk pace with his head held high. The vet arrived a bit later and I went to fetch Sparky who understood and came willingly. We smudged his resting place with white sage to clear the energy.  I also smudged his physical body and his aura. 

After the last goodbyes, and a few final moments, it was time to let him go. 

As the vet prepared the injection, Sparky actually went down on his knees of his own accord and turned his neck sideways to make it easier for the vet to find a vein with sufficient blood flow to administer the lethal dose effectively. Sparky essentially helped the vet do what needed to be done - in clear confirmation that he was ready for his transition. 

He left peacefully as the sun was shining and our hearts were filled with so much love and gratitude for him and his life. Sparky showed me how death - something that fills the human heart with so much fear - can be a beautiful thing. Involving him in the discussion and the decision-making and then preparing him for his transition not only made the process easier for him and for us, but left me so humble and grateful, knowing what can be accomplished if our hearts are open. The vet was astounded and said that he had never experienced anything like this and that it was a miracle. Maybe it was a miracle... one of respect, love and communication between sentient beings. Fly high, Sparky Boy.

Liesl Kruger, Animal Communicator

Read more stories on Anna Breytenbach's Animal Spirit website

Julie Blatty and her son Peter                                                                         Author Bill Blatty, Betsey's Mother Bette and her husband Moe Blatty 1971  


William “Bill” Blatty, who recently passed on January 12, 2017 at age 89, became my step uncle in 1971 when my mother married his older brother Maurice “Moe” Blatty. At the time Bill was already a famous comedy screenwriter known for such hits as What did You Do in the War Daddy, and A Shot in the Dark as well as many other screenplays. His horror novel titled THE EXORCIST was now a best-seller. On December 26, 1973 his novel became a mega hit movie. Later he won the Academy Award for best screenplay film adaptation. It was an amazing time. Not only was Bill Blatty a great writer but a kind and generous man. During that time my first husband Joe was diagnosed with cancer. Bill Blatty financed Joe’s trip to Mexico for the controversial Laetrile cancer treatments and Moe drove him to and from the clinic for several days. Although Joe died before the Laetrile treatments could work, it gave Joe hope. We were truly grateful for Bill's kindness. Sadly, my husband Joe passed away Christmas of 1974.

Many years passed. I had lost contact with Bill and his wife Julie after my step uncle Moe died in 1985 until a few years ago. I learned that they had moved from California to the East and had two beautiful grown sons, Peter and Paul. Their firstborn son Peter Vincent Galahad Blatty's life was suddenly cut short on November 7, 2006 at the age of nineteen. The loss of their firstborn son was devastating.

Today so many children die young but some of them are born knowing they have a mission to fulfill like Bill and Julie Blatty’s son Peter. These children are what authors have termed “New Children” or “Crystal or Star Children” who possess amazing gifts of telepathy, recall of past lives and heaven, and see spirits and angels. Some of these children are prodigies like artist
Akianewho recalled heaven, angels and could paint like a master at a very early age.

Peter understood, as you will read below, that he was a Star Child, here on Earth for only a short time to help "people." My wish is that my step uncle William Peter Blatty's beautiful written memory of his son Peter Vincent Galahad Blatty will touch your hearts. These children, here for such a short time, teach us powerful lessons. Bill wrote in his last book on Amazon, 
Finding Peter: A True Story of the Hand of Providence and Evidence of Life after Death,that Peter made his presence known after his death by making lights go on and off. 

Julie Blatty has generously given me permission to share "A Father Remembers."

When Peter was born, I did something remarkably out of character. All my children had the names of saints: Michael Peter, William Peter, Christine Ann, Mary Joanne, Jennifer Ann. But with Peter, I found myself strangely overcome by a compulsion to give him an added middle name. A very specific one. Galahad. Whose "strength was as the strength of ten", because his heart was pure. I told Julie, Pete's Mom," I don't know, I've just got this feeling that's what he's going to turn out to be". And so he did. It's the rare individual who on first meeting Pete, that imposing young man with the quick, warm smile, didn't sense that he was somehow in the presence of an extraordinary human being. There were never any halfway measures with Peter. Fiercely loyal and fiercely faithful, his love burned brightly and intensely like the love of angels massed before God. For many years he thought everyone was built that way, and so it was easy to break his heart. But like his other namesake, Pete would have cut off the High Priest's servant's ear without a moment of hesitation. He was incredibly brave, and kind. I couldn't drive past a beggar on a median strip without Peter pleading that I give the man money. "We'll hold up traffic, son. Can't do it." "Come on Dad, PLEASE!"

And did I say brave? A former Heights classmate of Peter's came by with a very young dogwood tree this week. He wanted to plant it in our yard in memory of Peter. "In gratitude," he said. He then told me a story of when he and Peter were both 15. The friend had challenged a boy from another school to a fight. They met in a field, surrounded by about 80 boys from both schools. They fought and Peter's friend won the bout. But the vanquished boy threatened he'd fetch a cousin who would then beat the friend to a pulp. Peter's friend said, "Fine. Bring him on. Bring an army." What showed up was almost worse: a hulking, muscular 26-year-old ex-convict who had just been released from prison. Within minutes, Peter's friend was on the ground, taking blow after blow to the face and head, and recognizing that he was in danger of serious injury he shouted," Stop! Stop! I give!" But the man didn't stop. Among those 80 watching the fight were two hulking football players. But they didn't intervene. No one moved. Except Peter. He slipped out of the crowd, walked up to the convict, who was flailing away, and said commandingly, "Didn't you hear him say stop? He said stop! So now do it!" And in an almost mysterious, otherworldly moment, the hulking ex-con looked up at Peter with a numb and bewildered look on his face…and then got up without a word and walked away. On the day he brought the tree to our house for planting, Peter's friend said he'd chosen a species of dogwood called, "Cherokee Brave". Youthful idealism sometimes prompts a boy to utter, "Oh, I'd give up my life for him or her." What made Peter unique was that if he ever said such a thing you knew that Peter would actually do it.

His mom, Julie Blatty kept a diary of unusual statements that Peter had made from earliest childhood, and I think that recounting one or two of them now would give you a fuller, though sometimes haunting and mysterious, picture of Peter. At age three he once asked me, "Dad, how do you learn?" I said, "Well, most people learn from experience or principle, and I guess I learn from both." Pete said, "That's not how I learn I learn from the sky. God teaches me." At the same age the diary records that one day, while his baby brother Paul was being dressed, Peter turned away from looking out a window at the ocean and said, "Mom, do you know why I came here?" His Mother said, "No, son, why?" His answer was, "I came here to help people!" As to Peter's spirituality, which was deeper than the heart of the world, the diary reveals quite an interesting range. When he was six he told his Mother that while he believed everything written in the Bible, he said, and I quote, " But Mom…I just can't get behind a talking snake!" But now jump ahead to a diary entry made in this final year of his earthly life: "Oh, Mom…if I had lived in the time of Christ and had been able to see Him and hear Him, I just know I couldn't have resisted Him!"

So here's just one more glimpse into Peter's breathtakingly beautiful soul. He was 5 years old when he said to his Mother, and this, like the other diary quotes is word for word what he said: "Mommy, when God was making me, I was a little bit scared and a little bit sad…until I saw you." When Peter was two, his Mother was watching him as he packed a little child's tin lunchbox. "I'm a little star boy," he said, and that he was packing his suitcase for a trip. "Where are you going?" Julie asked him. Peter answered, "I'm going to a star."

And now too soon, he has made that journey. Like those memorable comets that now and then flash across the night sky with a sudden and beautiful blazing brilliance and then all too quickly fade from our sight, our beloved little star boy has gone home.

A Mother Julie Blatty
Peter's last year was one of tremendous suffering. Through it all, however, he never lost his faith in the God he loved so much. Friday, November 3rd, he went to confession and Mass with me. He spent his weekend saying,"Look on the bright side mom...I'm good with God!" He called all his closest friends and shared his good news. It was the last thing he said to many of them. Early in the morning of November 7th, our tender and merciful Lord called Peter home. He passed peacefully in his sleep. Our pain is excruciating and our human natures tremble, but there is deep peace within our souls, because we know our beloved child is finally, and forever, at peace. The official cause of death was Myocarditis. It is a rare condition, often triggered by a viral illness, in which a person's own immune system attacks their heart.

With Joy, Love and Blessings,

Betsey Lewis
International Psychic, Author and Earth Mysteries Investigator