Amy Wild talks to animals. That's not especially weird — who doesn't chat with their pets, or with the occasional bird or chattering squirrel? The difference is that Wild says the animals talk back to her.

"Sometimes they speak in actual sentences," Wild said matter-of-factly, "but usually I get images, shared emotion, that sort of thing."

Wild, 38, is a Starksboro-based animal and spirit medium. The Massachusetts native started her business, Spectral Communications, in 2022 to offer her services to people who wish to converse with their pets, whether on this plane or across the rainbow bridge. In February, she became certified through the University of Vermont as a companion animal end-of-life doula.

For $99, Wild will "telepathically connect with your animal companion to provide insight, information and advice," her website says. She claims to be able to help pet owners understand why their dog chases its tail when company comes over; whether a churlish cat will welcome a new family member; how a dearly departed hamster is getting on in the afterlife; and anything else they might want to know about their furry, feathered or scaly friends. Or, as I would aim to find out, whether the affections of a beloved pit bull are guided by his heart or his stomach.

And yes, she knows what you're thinking.

"I wasn't super public about it all at first because I was worried people would think I was crazy, going on about talking to animals," she said over tea in Burlington.

Even by Vermont woo-woo standards, the notion of an animal medium seems out there. But Wild, who has been hired by clients around the world, isn't an outlier.

Nationally, pet psychics are making mainstream inroads. The Wall Street Journal featured the trend in a November story, noting that "Pet psychics are making their way from the fringe to socially acceptable." Outlets such as the New York Post and CBC News in Canada have covered the phenomena.

According to a 2018 study by the Pew Research Center, more than 60 percent of adult Americans harbor at least one so-called "new-age" belief. Combine that with the $136.8 billion that Americans spent on their pets in 2022 (according to a survey commissioned by Newsweek), and it's little wonder the pet medium gig is turning lucrative.

Wild's fees are on the lower end of the pet psychic spectrum. With a day job in public relations for concert promoter Higher Ground Presents, she sometimes even provides her services on a sliding scale. By contrast, the Journal highlighted a Philadelphia-area medium who charges $550 for a 90-minute session.

Some animal communicators prefer in-person sessions. Others, like the pricey Philly psychic, work primarily over the phone. Sometimes Wild connects with animals face-to-face, but she generally prefers to do it remotely, noting that the process goes more smoothly when she can meditate and concentrate in her own space. She asks clients to send her photographs of their animals and lists of question they'd like her to ask.

In seclusion, Wild clears her mind, then attempts to picture and connect with the animal. Once she does, she said, she can sense the animal wanting to show her images. Some are so talkative they start blabbing the moment she introduces herself, she said.

"I'll usually talk with the animals for about an hour or so and ask them the questions their owners provided," she continued. "Then I just sort of ask them if there's anything they want to tell me, and that's often when they get really chatty."

By and large, Wild said, owners aren't surprised by the results.

"Most people, deep down, know what their pet is feeling," she said. "Though every now and then they might hear something from the animal they don't want to hear: Some pets don't love it when their owner sings, things like that."

Vermonter Hannah Rouleau learned about Spectral Communications through an episode of a podcast Wild cohosts, "New Moon Review."

"I wasn't skeptical, but I was wary," Rouleau said. "I do believe people have abilities to read energy and talk to spirits and animals, but I also know there are scammers out there."

Rouleau's curiosity won out, and she hired Wild to do a reading for her two pet rabbits, Jed and Benjamin. Any trepidation disappeared when she received the results, and she has contracted Wild to read her bunnies several times since.

Rouleau said her younger rabbit told her he doesn't like being picked up and cradled. The older rabbit was more talkative, saying he sometimes got annoyed at the younger bunny but loved him. Both bunnies had lots of loving things to say about Rouleau, as well. I guess bunnies are big talkers?

"I feel closer to my rabbits now. I understand their personality and wants better," Rouleau said. Though she felt as if she already had some subconscious awareness of the information Wild gave her, she was still overjoyed by the experience, saying it "opened up a channel" between her and her pets.

With her new doula certification from UVM, Wild is expanding her business to include helping pets and their owners prepare for death.

"Losing your pet can be traumatic," Wild said. "But in our culture, it's considered a shadow loss — you're supposed to get over it and get back to life. But for many people, it can be even harder than losing a human in their life. It's loss of unconditional love."

Wild noted how rare it is for pets to die of natural causes. Owners are more likely to lose them through accidents or after making the difficult decision to euthanize.

"Animals have a completely different relationship with death than we do," she said. "They're not afraid. They know it's all just part of life. But they worry about their people; they don't want them to feel sad or guilty.

"As a doula, my goal is to provide support, alleviate any feelings of guilt an owner might have in having to put down their pet," Wild continued, "and to normalize the grief they feel at the loss." She plans to start a support group for people who have lost animals.

Wild is aware that veterinarians and other animal professionals take a dim view of her animal communication work, she said. When reached for comment on Wild and the field of pet psychics generally, several local vets declined to speak on the record for fear of lending credibility to the practice.

"Veterinarians are steeped in science," one said. "And the spirit guide admits that what she is doing is merely entertainment."

Indeed, Wild includes a disclaimer on her website noting that animal and spirit communication "is for entertainment purposes only" and advising prospective clients: "For legal, financial or medical concerns, please consult with a lawyer, accountant, veterinarian or physician."

Wild said she understands the doubters. She's been dealing with them since she discovered she could communicate with animals as a child.

"I always make it clear that my clients should be speaking with vets about their pets' issues. But there's always going to be some raised eyebrows when you're talking about communicating with the dead," she added with a wry grin.

"If someone doesn't want to believe me, that's fine," Wild continued. "But I'm still going to be over here, talking to whoever's animal wants to talk to me."

Succumbing to curiosity, I asked Wild to do a reading of a dear animal friend of mine, a pit bull named Wilbur who was my roommate for years before I moved to Colchester last year. His owner loved the idea, so I sent Wild a picture of Wilbur and some questions for her to ask the good boy.

Now, I love Wilbur. But he's not exactly the Einstein of dogs. So I have to admit, I thought I might get back a dial tone for the reading.

Fortunately, Wilbur was feeling chatty, according to Wild. While any clever and empathetic mind could have inferred much of the info she relayed — Wilbs wants pizza, hates when things (socks) are taken away from him and views trash as "treasure" — a few insights got my attention.

Without knowing his medical history, Wild mentioned how much Wilbur loves his "hip treats," aka his anti-inflammatory chews. I can confirm that they get him drooling whenever anyone so much as touches the bag.

But my real discovery, as I teared up reading Wild's report on Wilbur, was the emotions it aroused. I didn't need her to tell me who his favorite person is or where he likes to go for walks. Getting a glimpse of what might be on Wilbur's mind was enough to make me want to drive to Burlington in the middle of the night and shower him in love.

Maybe that's why vets are so reluctant to touch the subject of pet psychics. Here I was blubbering over a dog that was still very much alive and no longer even living with me. And Wild's report had me ready to ask even more questions: Did Wilbur like watching soccer with me, or did he just put up with it to score some French fries? Did he mean to eat my favorite red sneakers that time I went away for a week? Why does he hate action movies so much?

Suddenly I could see the danger of the so-called Barnum effect. Named for P.T. Barnum, famous showman and lover of hoaxes, the term refers to the ease with which people apply vague descriptions and predictions to their own situation. Like a fortune teller's client, was I just hearing what I wanted to hear about Wilbur? Was this any different from basing my expectations on a horoscope?

The next time I was with Wilbur, I looked deep into his eyes as he lay curled in his dog bed beside my office desk. He stared back, game for whatever was happening.

"Anything else you want to mention?" I asked him.

He snorted, licked his chops and looked at my knapsack; his nose had clearly deduced that his beloved hip treats were hiding there. Whatever I believed, there was no doubt that Wild nailed that one.