MARS — Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her home office, Renee Takacs takes a few deep breaths before softly placing her palms on her client's back.

In a gentle, soothing voice, Takacs asks him if he has anything to share with her.

Both close their eyes and breathe deeply. Takacs is momentarily static; the only movement from her customer is the irregular swishing of his tail.

She likens her exchange with animals, which communicate through images and feelings, to humans' visits with therapists.

"We need to have someone hear us and acknowledge our emotional state. The animals have a story they need to tell," said Takacs, 46, of Mars, who also practices trigger-point therapy and pain management at the Integrated Wellness Center.

Takacs said she has had a "sixth sense" since she was a child, experiencing precognitive dreams and communication with a deceased grandmother. She began doing telepathic readings about 16 years ago.

After a group reading at a private home one evening, the hostess jokingly invited Takacs to return and read for some pets, she said.

"My intuitive voice said 'Do it,'" Takacs said. "So I plopped on the floor and said (to a dog) 'Is there anything you want to tell me?'"

She saw a vision of the dog's favorite sleeping place, which the family confirmed. The dog also told Takacs he missed the taste of bacon.

The hostess' incredulous boyfriend admitted the dog's bacon-flavored treats had been on the grocery list for six weeks because no one ever remembered to buy them, Takacs said.

Now she converses with all types of animals, assuming they give their permission first.

Only a few sulky cats have ever turned her down, Takacs said.

A few pets, like Kodi, a 7-year-old husky/sheltie mix, are more than willing to have a seat on the couch, if Takacs used one.

Most are content to curl up on the carpet.

Once Takacs makes contact with a pet telepathically, the owner can ask her to ask it questions.

Melanie Popovich of Sewickley had a short list for her pooch.

Takacs asked Kodi if he cared for his new brand of dog food — it tastes like cardboard; if he had a favorite trail to walk — not particularly; and why he eats the cats' food — he thinks it's fun to annoy them.

She had also been working with the dog to relieve his anxiety during thunderstorms.

Popovich said he used to suffer from excessive nervous energy and hyperventilate. Now he pants a little, but is otherwise calm.

"I could not believe the difference," Popovich said. "Having Renee talk to him and calm him down has really helped balance him out."

Takacs has been working with Kodi for about six years, since Popovich adopted him from a shelter in Beaver County.

While she was considering the adoption, Kodi reacted badly to a vaccination shot and ultimately developed Parvo, a potentially fatal gastrointestinal virus that attacks the stomach lining, Popovich said.

"They advised me 'You may just want to let him go' but I was unwilling to do that," she said.

Having lost her previous dog, Max, not long before, Popovich had committed herself to having Kodi long-term.

Takacs pleaded with Kodi to hold on, and described the happy life he'd have with his new owner. Contrary to veterinarians' expectations, the dog made it through the night and forged a connection with both women.

Dog and communicator now meet four to five times a year to air concerns about behavior, though Takacs said she always advises clients to contact a vet about medical issues.

"Sometimes conversations are not enough," she said, and will recommend a veterinarian or behavioral trainer.

"She's not a substitute for a vet, but it helps me to know what's going on," Popovich said.

Animals can sense their owners' emotions, she added, and she notices that when she is feeling stress, her pets do too.

"It's really a partnership with the animal to understand what effect we're having on them," she said.

Debbie Vlanich of Bentleyville had no idea what effect she was having on her pets until they sat down with Takacs.

Following a conversation with 4-year-old Mitzi, a Chinese crested dog, Vlanich learned the cookie treats she was buying could lead to canine diabetes, common to that breed.

"I went home and looked and those cookies all had sugar," she said. "How else would Ihave known?"

Takacs also spoke with Brandee, Vlanich's 3-year-old cockapoo, who had taken to relieving herself in front of the TV.

Takacs said the dog thought Vlanich didn't mind because she didn't yell or show anger.

Takacs also suggested an herbal remedy for Brandee's digestive dilemmas.

Vlanich became more assertive and administered the herbs, and the behavior stopped, she said.

"Talking to (Takacs) when I have a reading gives me the answers," Vlanich said.

"It's just like talking to somebody when Renee talks to your animals because they answer exactly what she asks."

Since Takacs relocated to Mars, Mitzi and Brandee only speak with her once or twice a year. But Vlanich makes the appointments faithfully.

"I think everybody should do this," she said.

Through the years Takacs has forged bonds with various species, including a lizard, which was afraid the little boy caring for it would injure him — a valid fear, according to Takacs.

There was a goldfish that told her it felt threatened when its feline housemates approached the bowl and a horse that continually kicked its stall walls.

During the conversation the bucking bronco told Takacs it used to be in a pasture and was unhappy in the stable. Takacs said not long afterward the owners told her the horse heeded her advice and stopped its merciless kicking.

Still, Takacs realizes her profession is somewhat unorthodox and welcomes healthy skepticism.

She wants people to ask her how she does it, though she admits she doesn't have all the answers.

"It is a different state of mind," she said.