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Pets
I saw this prayer on a coffee mug: Lord, help me to be the person my pet thinks I am.
This past Sunday after Coffee Hour, I did a service in our pet memorial garden. By a statue of St. Francis, we placed in rest the ashes of a much beloved pet named Reba. The black standard poodle, Reba, had a very good life. She was a trained therapy dog, lived on a canal on Anna Maria Island, and had two very good roommates – Ginny and Ed – who kept her fed, groomed and most importantly, loved. Occasionally, Reba would come to All Angels where she did her favorite activity of chasing lizards.
Prior to her passing, Reba visited me for the last time. I was thankful that her chauffeurs (Ed and Ginny) brought her. She was afflicted with sores and a quickly spreading cancer. She was wearing a red shirt so that she didn’t feel the need to lick her fur. As always, Reba was happy-go-lucky and was pleased to see me. We all sat in my office, I offered some prayers, mostly for her handlers, but also for her to have a holy and peaceful ending. The prayer ended with thanksgiving to God for blessing us with such a wonderful creature and that we are now returning her back to our Creator.
The dog had a ministry. She was able to bring comfort and joy to people who were in the last stage of life. Hospice pet-therapy dogs provide people with joy. They also reduce the feelings of isolation, anxiety, and depression. I have seen where a pet-therapy animal takes a patient’s mind off their situation and the hopelessness they may feel. The presence of a pet encourages family members to share stories and open up about their own feelings. Maybe pet-therapy animals are like a coffee table book that helps break the ice. Or perhaps they have a special, spiritually tuned gift. Reba did both. She had so much positive energy that people would naturally feel uplifted by her presence. She would greet each person and wait to be petted on the head, which would help break the ice of doubt and confusion that hospice can bring.
Pets have a way of being in tune with their owners, or guests, that can help them open up in a safe way. I have had tough days in ministry that were softened greatly by the purr of a cat and a good lap fix. Although I clean the two cat boxes every day and give Oscar and Jellybean their “crunchies”, I think I receive more from our two cats than what I give. In that way, our pets have a ministry to their owners – they bring attention and calm. Jellybean was a Covid cat – we needed/wanted another cat because our much beloved cat, Pancake, was in his final stage of life, and couldn’t imagine going through a pandemic with just one cat, Oscar.
Speaking of Oscar, now in his 14th year, he is starting to say goodbye to us in the way that pets do when they know their time is coming. Normally fastidious about his shiny black coat, he is starting to look a little scruffy. He’s becoming thinner too. Yet, being a cat, he still has energy to play chase with our orange and white cat (Jellybean).
The way I read the Bible, it appears that humans went through “The Fall” but animals did not. We found ourselves separated from God, but I don’t think animals do. Like their human companions, each pet has a particular gift or set of gifts. We call Oscar our Big Baby because he always wants to be on our lap and loves to purr. He also likes guests and will quickly jump on their lap and wait to be petted too. He’s like the welcome party of the Marshall household. And this is what makes saying goodbye to pets so difficult. They give us so much and ask for little in response. They don’t need books for college, or braces, or need driving lessons. Pets are quick to forgive and give lots of love.
While Reba’s ashes were being placed in the Memorial Garden, I said, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done.” She ran her race on this planet by giving love to others, especially strangers. Our pets give us an example of how to live and love and how to treat one another. May we all be the kind of person our pets think we are.
- Fr. Dave
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