It’s like he’s the human and I’m the dog – skittish and yappy.
Leash in hand, I’m wrangling the most enthusiastic Jack Russell bitsa in Australia.
My neighbours warn me not to take him.
“He’ll probably burst into flames when he’s blessed. He’s so naughty!”
I don’t believe them.
To me, he’s the purest bundle of joy. The way he jumps into the air to nuzzle my hand each and every time he sees me makes me wonder, “Why are humans so often restrained around the people we love?”
To be honest, I don’t know what to expect as I enter the Uniting Church in South Sydney on Sunday October 2 for its service in praise of creation.
It’s definitely not the vicar of Dibley with farm animals honking and bleating.
It definitely is animal friendly – and having a dog by my side makes chatting before the service begins quite relaxing.
In fact, I’m so chilled by the time it starts I forget to panic when a parishioner passes the microphone to people who’ve brought pets (or photos of them) so we can share our experiences. When it’s my turn to speak, I say Frankie is such a blessing to me – I wanted to bring him to the service to have him blessed back.
This is my first date with my neighbours’ dog and I find myself trying to guess what Frankie’s thinking as the dogs Rango, Frances, Lucy, Finnegan, Jenny, Bobbie, Ebony, Sammy and Horace; the cats Carrington, Esky and Augie; the canary Jasper; and the Axolotyl Lotty are introduced or spoken of in absentia during the service.
I also wonder what Frankie makes of the preacher, Alison Clark, who says God’s good news is about bringing freedom for all creatures: “Freedom from whatever it is that prevents us living in the fullness of what we were created to be.”
Clark speaks of how the animal-loving St Francis of Assisi believed in “preaching the gospel to all creatures, using words when necessary” – and of how she had seen the power of words in her “pat and chat” sessions with her dog Jenny. “When I talk about God, and how much he cares for her and how much he loves her, her demeanour changes and she gets a completely different look in her eyes. She’ll often just reach out and give me a single lick on the nose, as if to say, ‘I understand what you’re saying Mum – God’s really good.’”
Robyn Vazey has brought her dog Sammy to South Sydney to be blessed for the last four or five years. She says Clark’s words have made her think of all of the unfortunate animals in the intensive-farming system that have no freedom, and spend their whole lives just waiting to be killed.
“I think pets today are very lucky,” she says. “But there are a lot of animals in the world that are very unlucky – and my prayers and thoughts are with them in their raw deal. If we can eat less meat, that’s really the best thing we can do without words [to free animals]. Eastgardens’ pet shop is now selling vegetarian dog food. So yeah: Eat less meat.”
Once the animals have been blessed and we’ve each received a banksia-echidna and a “Thank You God” card for our pets made by the children, I’m eager to get Frankie outside. As we’re leaving, I consider how all creatures deserve our respect and protection and not our domination and destruction. Count the species that are disappearing each year – and I suspect you’ll say amen to that.
As Frankie’s nose twitches, his eyes twinkle and his stocky little body yanks me towards his next feverish adventure, my heart surges with gratitude. Not just for him but for all the world’s creatures that crawl, run, swim, float and fly around us. I think of the hippopotami in Kruger, the puffins in the Faroe Islands, and the dopey Red Setter I loved but who went missing 30 years ago (and I haven’t had a dog since). I think of the bees that swarmed around a friend’s gumtree as we relaxed in her garden, the bat babies that the WIRES volunteer, Meg Churches, rescues from the bellies of their electrocuted mothers, and our cat Aspen who died sweating buckets despite her cool character and snowy name.
It’s hopelessly anthropomorphic of me to say this, but I think Frankie loved hanging with me and the other pooches at church – and I’m sure he’d come with me again if I asked him.
I’m still caught up in his animal enthusiasm when I return home and say I think we should get a dog.
My husband looks at me, slit-eyed, like a sleepy crocodile.
“Let’s not,” he says. “We want to travel again, remember.”
I stick a note on the fridge that says, “Organise play date.”
Yes, it’s with Frankie: Such a divine little dog.
