At the Blessing of the Pets

they sat in semi-circled folding chairs,
the people and their pets—eleven dogs
from small to large, the larger on the floor,
and two suspicious cats, still as Christmas mice,
unsure if they were to be blessed or turned
to chew toys, limp and lifeless, slobber-slicked.

The spirit of Christ's church prevailed, and war
between the species didn't come to pass.
The fertile, crescent seating arrangement
inspired the people to mythologize
their pets into small gods—or maybe themselves.
But no . . . damn imperfect hermeneutics!

To take another tack . . . the hour filled
with touching stories of abiding love—
of Anni the cat, an anniversary
gift from a husband, now gone, who never
wanted a cat; of Candy, a small bitch,
defending Master as he lay abed

dead and defenseless against EMTs;
of little Missy, child of the childless
couple that adopted her the year the man's
father died, who somehow had her grandfather's eyes;
of Sebastian fireball; and of Magic,
who sawed in two a man's wooden heart and

put it back together again, beating.
There were tears, and the people sang their hymns—
"All Creatures of Our God and King" and "All
Things Bright and Beautiful." Beautiful, but
not all peaceful, for like a preacher's kid
the preacher's dog would not behave.


Five stanzas of six lines each, mostly in iambic pentameter. Certainly nothing great, but maybe a decent first draft.

I sang at the Blessing of the Pets this morning in the Gathering Space at Cherokee Church. Having done this last year as well, I didn't think it a silly event. But initially I wondered at its importance, given the dire straits our church finds itself in these days. You can catch a little of that in the playfulness I tried to put into the first lines of the poem. I served mostly as background music while each person introduced her or his pet and told something about it. Each story was, in its way, amazing! These little beasts come to their people in surprising ways, much like God is said to do. And they do wonderful things--gifting joy in times of sorrow, mending broken lives, encouraging the strong to be stronger, the lonely and bereaved to be comforted.

Mythologized into small gods? Maybe that's not too far from the truth.