Do Animals Know When We Think of Them?

Have you ever suddenly thought about an animal you haven't seen or spoken to in a long time, only to hear from their human soon after?

It happens to me quite often. In fact, I experience this at least once or twice a week. I will suddenly think about an animal I have communicated with in the past and wonder how they are doing. Sometimes, within a short time, their human will reach out to me asking for another communication.

It has happened so many times that I have become quite familiar with the experience. But every now and then, something happens that makes me stop and think about it a little more deeply.

A recent example was a kitten I had communicated with back in 2018. She had been absolutely adorable. She had a very witty and funny personality, and I remember really enjoying my conversation with her.

Eight years passed.

Then, a few days ago (in 2026), I was thinking about her completely out of the blue. There was no particular reason for it. I hadn't been speaking to her human, and I wasn't looking through old communication notes. She simply popped into my mind, and I found myself wondering how she was doing.

To my surprise, her human reached out to me after a couple of days asking if I could communicate with her again.

The little kitten I had spoken to in 2018 was now eight years old.

Naturally, I was delighted to speak with her again. But what she told me made the whole thing even more interesting.

When I asked her about reconnecting with me, she told me that she had been the one to reach out to me. She wanted to communicate with her human because it had been a long time, and she remembered me from our conversation years ago.

So perhaps I hadn't simply thought of her randomly after all.

Perhaps she had thought of me first.

Now, I know that experiences like this can be very tempting to interpret as proof that animals can hear every thought we have about them. But I don't think we need to go that far.

Just because we suddenly think about an animal doesn't mean that they are always thinking about us. And every time we think about an animal and their human happens to contact us afterwards, it doesn't necessarily mean there is an intuitive connection.

Sometimes a thought is simply a thought.

But sometimes, there can be something more to it.

This is where I find intuitive animal communication particularly interesting. We are not constantly walking around trying to communicate with animals. We have our own lives, our own thoughts and our own things happening. Yet sometimes an animal seems to come into our awareness very strongly and unexpectedly.

And sometimes, there is a reason.

However, there is something extremely important that we need to remember as animal communicators. Having a thought about an animal is not permission to communicate with them.

If an animal suddenly comes into our mind, we may wonder how they are doing. We may feel a strong sense of connection or even wonder if the animal is reaching out to us. But unless their human has explicitly given us permission to communicate with that animal, we do not communicate with them.

This is a strict ethical boundary.

It doesn't matter if the animal appears to have reached out. It doesn't matter if the thought feels unusually strong or specific. It doesn't matter if you have communicated with that animal many times in the past.

Without the explicit permission of their human, we do not initiate communication with a companion animal.

We can acknowledge the thought. We can notice it. We can perhaps think, “I wonder how they are doing.” And then we leave it there.

This can sometimes be difficult, especially when you feel that there is an animal connection happening. But being an ethical communicator means knowing that having the ability to communicate does not automatically give us the right to do so.

Consent matters.

The same applies even if we feel that the animal has reached out to us. We can acknowledge that experience without acting on it. If their human later contacts us and gives us permission to communicate, then we can have that conversation.

Until then, we respect the boundary.

This is also why I don't think we need to turn every unexpected thought into a message or a sign. Sometimes a thought is simply a thought. Sometimes it may be an intuitive impression. And sometimes we may never know where it came from.

We can be curious without acting on everything we experience.

In the case of the little cat I thought about after eight years, her human did eventually reach out to me and give me permission to communicate with her. Only then did I have the conversation, and that conversation gave me an interesting perspective on why she may have come into my awareness in the first place.

Animals have their own intentions and their own choices. They may want to communicate something. They may want to reconnect with someone. They may remember a person they have spoken to before.

But respecting their connection with us also means respecting the human's consent and the boundaries around that relationship.

I don't think we need to prove exactly how these experiences work. We can simply notice them.

If an animal suddenly comes into your awareness, acknowledge it. Notice the thought. Be curious about it. And then let it go unless you have permission to communicate.

We don't have to force anything to happen.

And if their human suddenly messages us afterwards, well, that's certainly something worth noticing.

After all, sometimes we may think we are remembering an animal.

And sometimes, perhaps, the animal is reminding us that they remember us too.

But even then, we wait for permission before we say hello.