Every year, HPUMC holds a Blessing of the Animals service in early October. Families bring pets of all sizes, shapes, and sorts – from dogs and cats to more unusual pets like chickens and snakes. It feels a bit like Noah’s Ark as we listen to a minister witness to God’s love, care and concern for creation, and call the animals forward for individual blessings.

It’s a wonderful time for children to start learning about our charge from God to be good stewards of his creation. God carefully created all that flies, swims, slithers or walks, and pronounced them good. Then he created man and put him in charge of the earth and all creatures on it: it’s our job to be good caretakers. Not only do children learn it's their responsibility to take care of their pet, but they are also invited to bring a gift to an animal shelter to help homeless pets in need of attention and love. It’s a fabulous service: it’s warm and loving, full of children, held outdoors, and short enough to get all pets blessed before any serious hissing or barking breaks out.

My husband and I brought our beloved black Labrador, Casey, every year to be blessed. We didn’t have the excuse of bringing children as ours had grown up long ago, but we loved our dog fervently as empty nesters tend to do, and wanted the annual blessing for her with its accompanying prayer for all of us to enjoy life together with God.

Little did we know how much those blessings would come to mean to us.

Casey’s story

We lost Casey earlier this year. She was a rescue dog, so we never really knew for certain how old she was. She was somewhere between three and five years old when we got her, and we were fortunate enough to have her for a decade of fun. She loved to go for a ride, followed my husband everywhere, and cheerfully offered to eat anything – even broccoli – that our grandkids dropped from the dinner table.

A year ago, our long walks became shorter, and soon it was hard for her to walk around just one block. She started to move slower and sleep longer. We left her with a dog sitter when we went on vacation with friends in the summer, and I was terrified we’d get a text that she had passed away before we got back. I prayed that she would stay alive until we returned.

Then her hind legs started to fail, and she couldn’t stand up without assistance. Our vet warned us that dysplasia was not treatable at her age. Eventually, she became unable to stand up at all, so we got her a doggie wheelchair and adjusted to life with a paraplegic dog.

A few weeks later, Casey began to turn away from her dog bowl. This was serious. In her prime, Casey would have won any dog food eating contest paws-down. Now she ate and drank nothing for almost two days, and we were afraid her systems were shutting down. I coaxed her to eat with chopped chicken breasts, and everything started working again. Every day I cooked dinner for us, and chicken for her. We had bought more time for Casey, but her issues continued to grow.

Finally, our trusted vet looked us squarely in the eyes and told us it was time. I sadly realized that I hadn’t seen our perennially happy dog give us her enthusiastic, clear-the-coffee-table tail wagging for quite a while. A thump or two whenever she saw us, but that was all.

We cried rivers. And seas and oceans. We petted her, had cheerful conversations with her, and gave her a beautiful last day. We took her for a ride, as the back seat of my husband's truck was her happy place and she loved to ride around town with him. Then we took her to lunch at her favorite BBQ place, where we brought out a styrofoam box of chopped chicken and a small ice cream cone. Yes, she might possibly have been spoiled.

Then we drove to the vet’s office and bawled like babies as we said our final goodbyes.

What a difference those blessings made

Losing a cherished pet is devastating. You grieve desperately, but don’t feel that you can talk about it when others are losing spouses, children, or friends, which is a thousand-fold worse. So you suffer quietly, knowing that this is a grief we’re expected to shoulder, bear up to, and carry on in spite of, but it’s hard when every room holds a memory or a reminder.

How should I pray about it? When my father died at a relatively young age, I asked God why He’d taken him from me even though God had given us plenty of warning through failing health. When my mother passed away thirty years later, I thanked God for lovingly taking her home after years in a nursing home, where she was always happy but often not really there. Now I didn’t know what to say to God. Can I ask for comfort? Were we wrong to ease her suffering? Did He know Casey is in His care now?

Then I remembered all those years of blessings, and realized “Of course He knows and cares!” Not only was I very comforted personally, but the story of the Blessing of the Animals helped comfort our grandchildren when we had to share the news.

Remembering those blessings was the start to recovering from grief. It led me to think about the role of animals in our lives and faith, and here’s what I think I’ve figured out so far:

God cares for His creations.

In Genesis, we learn God made all beasts and said they were good. God once again showed how He feels about animals when He made sure they were saved from the great flood in the ark and even made them a part of His covenant with Noah (Genesis 9:9-10). In the New Testament, we know His eye is on the sparrow. As a 70-pound dog is a lot easier to see than a sparrow, I was comforted!

I also can’t help but feel that the huge heart, and generously and unconditionally lavished love, of a dog, has to be - in some small way - a small reflection of the love of our Father. I should be treating all those around me with the same welcoming, trusting, unconditional, whole-hearted love.

Praying does bring comfort.

Pray for the vet. How hard it must be to see aging pets decline, and people suffer and despair as they lose them; how he must wonder every time if he’s doing the right thing. Pray for those who grieve with you, for they are equally wounded. Pray with friends who understand your grief and support you.

God cares for those who mourn.

I thank God for timing my Bible-in-a-year scripture reading to be in the Beatitudes the week Casey left us: blessed are they who mourn for they will be comforted. I think God is concerned about our pain and will answer our prayers with comfort, no matter who or what we are grieving for.

Be grateful.

My prayers had been answered all year. God gave us another incredible six months with Casey after she started to fail, and we knew each additional day was a blessing. Be grateful for the opportunity to be a caretaker of God’s creatures, for however long you have them.

We’ve started to heal. I’ve stopped getting all teary-eyed whenever I see someone walking a black Lab, and we’re starting to be able to talk about her without sadness clouding our wonderful warm memories. In the meantime, we encourage our friends to take their precious furry friends to the Blessing of the Animals; it’s a wonderful family moment of prayer now, and may provide you needed comfort later.