Sample story from the book "The Spiritual Life of Animals and Plants": 

The Dog on Staten Island

Several times a year I would stay with friends on Staten Island, sometimes for weeks at a stretch. They lived in St. George, which is near the ferry. And on the way from the ferry to their house I passed a grocery store guarded by a large tan brutish dog on a chain – whose aura, by the way, was terrible. The dog was chained outside the store in all weather, and the owner mentioned that at night the dog was locked in the basement. Not a great life for a dog, or any other being for that matter.

The dog growled if you came anywhere near him, and was in general otherwise non-responsive and churlish.

In time, as I learned about the spiritual yearnings and the spiritual development of animals, I decided that this dog needed spiritual training – for the sake of his own soul, but also for the souls of those around him, including his master.

Following a low, short growl from my student-to-be, I stood before him and inwardly told him of Jesus and Mary and the saints. I told him that if he were a good doggie, one day he would go to a beautiful realm filled with love, where there were gardens and beautiful, kind, people and saints and dog biscuits and everything else he could ever want – and I sent him a mental image of such a place, bathed in Sunshine and Peace.

He pretended that he was annoyed and not listening, but I could see that he was listening, and that he was even thinking. I mentally asked St. Francis to come and speak with the dog, and to watch over him in general. I told the dog to pray everyday: i.e. to tell Christ and Mary that he loved them and that he wanted to be a good doggie.

Since the grocery store was only a block away, and on the main street, I saw him many times that visit. I repeated my lecture every time I saw him, and his aura did seem somewhat improved by the time I left Staten Island. 

I returned to Staten Island a few months after. I had actually forgotten about the unhappy guard dog, but as I turned the corner to the main street – the dog was waiting for me, his head turned in my direction, as though he knew I was coming. Even though he was chained in front of the grocery store halfway down the block, I saw him instantly. I saw him instantly because his aura was so filled with Light that he shone. Out of all the people and strollers and stores and buses and cars and a plethora of other perceptions – my attention was riveted on the dog's Light. The dog began to pray as I walked towards him, and I say this because of his posture and also because his aura brightened further.

To see such a change in a being, in such a short time, was remarkable, and I told him so. He acted a bit shy with me – although he still maintained his guard dog persona, which was appropriate. In short, he was a changed dog. I saw him almost every day of my visit, and encouraged him to continue his practices when I left Staten Island.

A few months later, back in Ithaca, late one night (and I'm embarrassed to say that I was watching Star Trek on television), suddenly, as sometimes happens, a little movie started playing in my head. I closed my eyes to better see, and there were dogs, hundreds of dogs, all sizes and shapes, colors and breeds, sitting in a single line, one behind the other, it seemed for miles – as far as one could see to the horizon. They were all well behaved, and seemed happy and expectant, a little excited, yet sitting quietly in that long, very long, orderly row. Then, as though the camera taping the show zoomed in for a close-up, suddenly I was standing over the tan dog from Staten Island. There was no mistake about it, it was him. Wonderingly, I turned in the other direction, to see where all these dogs were facing, where the line began.

There were only a few dogs ahead of the dog from Staten Island – and at the head of the line stood Christ. Other dogs were playing and running in a beautiful countryside nearby. Then the inner movie dissolved.

I didn't know what the clairvoyant movie meant.

Six months or so later I returned to my friends on Staten Island. As I came to the corner, I expected the Staten Island dog to turn his head my way, and greet me with his prayers as he had done on my last visit. He did not, in fact he wasn't there.

I went inside the cluttered grocery and found the owner. "Where's your doggie?" I asked. Of course, no one in the world, I'm sure, had ever called his guard dog a doggie before. He looked a little puzzled and then offhandedly said "Oh, the dog – he died about six months ago," and then he turned and talked loudly with a customer.

About six months ago was when I had watched the clairvoyant vision. And even as I write this, so many years later, I am filled with such love for the dog on Staten Island who accomplished so much so quickly – a poor guard dog who freed himself from his difficult life and gained a beautiful realm where Christ Himself would come.      
    

Excerpt
From the story "Dominique and the Tree":

My dream is that one day, perhaps while I am walking on this planet we call earth, all the animals and flowers and trees and minerals, insects and reptiles, all the creatures of earth will pray, pray in the way humans were meant to pray. From the Heart, from Love, and continually. This is my dream, that they will pray from their Love of the Divine, and that they will pray for themselves and each other and then the people of the earth and then all the beings and creatures in other realms. Clairvoyantly I can even see this, what such a thing would look like. I see it as many little Hearts of Love and Light joining into one Big Heart or expanse of Light, and within that Greater Heart is contained all the beings and creatures of Earth and all other realms, transparent and bright. This is my vision. May it happen, and may it happen now.