The old Griffith Park Zoo
Praying in the Catacombs
Old Griffith Park Zoo
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The old Griffith Park Zoo was in operation from 1912 to 1965, before it moved two miles down the road to its current location. It had been suggested to me that I, as the Pet Psychic, should go to the ruins of this zoo to see what I sense. On this assignment, my assistant/producer Ai, plus four others working camera, sound, and other various equipment, as well as my dog Storm King and Ai’s dog Ventura, accompanied me.
Immediately as I approach the ruins I am buckled over with nausea. The large animal enclosures are small, dark, and gloomy. Some of the cages are open and we are able to walk through long, steep, passageways to what must have been the nighttime holding pens. Satanic designs are painted on the walls and litter crowds the corners. In my mind’s eye, cats like lions, tigers, servals, bobcats, cougars, and leopards are weaving past me. They are skeletons with skin, sick to their stomachs, and fearful of coming out into the light.
By Courtesy Photo
In an unlit hallway where the sun barely shines, I see an image of small, dead spotted cat. “We are sick” I hear. “We don’t want to have to walk by the dead one, but every night they make us. Our eyes are stinging and our stomachs hurt. Two of the bigger cats have tried to kill each other for food. We all used to be in the wild. They captured us and brought us here. Why? People won’t leave us alone. We are scared to move on to the bright light. It’s too bright for us.”
I look to my dog Storm. “Mom, they are saying that people electrocuted them with poles. Why would people do that? Mom, they have metal collars on them that are too tight, why don’t their moms take them off?” I am not the only human that senses the suffering. The others feel cramped and suffocated.
Outside in a larger enclosure, I sit and call animals that have already passed over to come and take the animals that have been left behind. I contemplate why a higher power has not already come for them. It seems so cruel. I explain to the cats that they must go toward the light even though their eyes burn. I tell them that they will feel safe and free once again. I bow my head. I pray. I ask for sign that I have been heard. I raise my head and see my initials written in white on two of the walls next to me. I think about coincidences and a long for a more convincing sign.
By Courtesy Photo
There is more suffering I sense: a monkey accidentally hanging himself from spinning from psychosis, elephants with sore, infected, puss-covered feet, and a komodo dragon peering out of the darkness. Even the skeptics bow their heads. The suffering seems to stick to your breath.