About ten years ago I was invited by the Unitarian Church to participate in a Blessing of the Animals. It was at a time in my life that I felt fragmented and busy. Initially I declined the invitation because I didn't feel I could do justice to something so important. I thought it was better to just say “Thank you, but, no, I can’t help this time.”
Then, just a few days later, I found myself on the side of the highway helping to comfort a dog who had just been struck by a car traveling 65 miles an hour. A car, that for whatever reason, could not or would not, stop. What I saw was a man, kneeling by a dog. That was all it took for me to abruptly pull over onto the shoulder and carefully back my car up to his.
The man was a postal worker on his way home from work. He had witnessed the hit and had then risked his own life to run across lanes of traffic to carry the beautiful animal off the roadway. He was visibly shaken and upset. The dog was conscious, his eyes were open and his breathing was labored. He was not bleeding. I ran back to my car and pulled blankets from the back that our own dogs used for cushioning when going along on rides. We put one under his head and laid the other one over his body. And that was how I came to be kneeling beside the shattered body of a fully grown adult male Golden retriever. The gentleman and myself, both, instinctively, knew this dog was dying , so while 100’s of rush hour cars continued to speed past mere feet from where we knelt, we offered the only things we had to offer; soft caresses, murmurings of love, reassurances that he'd been a good dog and that we would not leave him. Within just a few minutes, his body became very still, and his breathing stopped altogether. His eyes closed and I was left with a stranger, both of us crying quietly, our private thoughts unshared. He said he had already called the State Patrol would stay with the dog until they came.
I knew, in that short bit of time, in those minutes that felt like hours, and as I pulled back into the stream of traffic, that I would be doing the Blessing I had been asked to do by the Unitarian church. The one I had declined. The one I had felt “too busy” for. I suddenly didn't feel too busy at all.
Animals are the healers of soul. And the animals we eventually invite into our lives as pets, lick the wounds in us that no one else can see. They guide us in our blindness and they companion us in our sickness. They sit beside us as we mourn losses, while we cry watching sad movies, while we cry over spilt milk; and they can almost always make us laugh with their antics and joyful abandon.
They ground us in our most difficult times and they remind us of our complete vulnerability and lovability.
From the largest bull elephant to the tiniest newborn kitten they are creatures of a Divine Source.
When we pay attention to the rhythm of their behaviors we are learning about life from the truest masters.
When we bring them into our homes, we invite compassion, love and humility to become our bedfellows.
And when, due to some unimaginable woundedness somewhere in our own lives, we cause harm to them, we all share the shame and we all bear the scars.
One day, each year, communities around the world, gather to honor the place animals occupy in our hearts and their rightful place in the rhythm of life. It is a day to bless and honor the animals who sit beside us as we watch the evening news, the ones who lie quietly on the laps of elders, or the ones who wait patiently for us to return whenever they are left behind. The ones who purr and whinny and wag at the sight of us. The ones who ask for nothing in return.
The Blessing of the Animals is a day to remember the animals from our lives that we’ve known and loved, the ones who leave hearts bruised and broken when they die. It is a day to connect and re-connect to the purity of goodness they all bring to the planet.
And it is a day, as well, to recognize, honor and remember those among us who mend the broken bones, sew the torn flesh, caress the sore muscles and then feed and nurture the wounded Spirits of animals who are abandoned and abused; when we honor the hands and hearts of those among us who help make healing possible.
I have been loved best by the animals in my life; we all have. And in my work with those who grieve there is great comfort in knowing when there is a pet at home; because that warm blooded furry loved one will be the best therapist they will ever have; and for many, the only one they will ever need.
An animals ability to read the emotional energy surrounding us is something to behold. To watch a therapy dog (and in where I come from, on planet sean, all dogs are therapy dogs) gravitate to someone in a grief circle and just quietly lie down at their feet, or lay a head on their lap is a stunning display of their intuitive nature to heal through love.
And anyone who has ever had the privilege of working with an equine therapist will know the power of these gentle giants to move us in our healing from grief.
If you are fortunate enough to have a pet in your life, please love them to the best of your ability. Honor and respect their unconditional devotion to you by loving them to the best of your ability. As humans, we have so much to learn about learning to love better; and a good place to start is with our animals.