The Blessings of the Animals_A Novel

CHAPTER Twenty-Eight

ALMOST IMMEDIATELY UPON REACHING CENTRAL PARK, the faint perfume of horse manure comforted me. I watched a dappled gray Belgian pulling a carriage, the hollow clop of hooves on the pavement releasing my shoulders and clenched fists.
I stood on the sidewalk, reveling in the hints of autumn colors to come, when my attention was caught by a magnificent harlequin Great Dane leading its owners on a walk.
Across the street, a girl with her parents walked a Maine Coone cat in a harness. It looked so jaunty trotting stiff-legged down the sidewalk that I laughed aloud.
Although I’d planned to head into the park, I decided I’d follow this rakish cat for a bit. As I waited to cross the street, a young girl beside me held what I first thought was an old-fashioned muff but then recognized was a live rabbit.
We crossed with the light, following the marching cat and the Great Dane, along with a couple walking two standard poodles.
At the next intersection, all of us going in the same direction, I saw a girl with a Persian cat in a carrier. A woman in a fur coat carried a Chihuahua. A white rat rode on an old man’s shoulder. Was this a dream?
Across the street, as this procession of animals headed up Amsterdam, I saw people unloading a llama from a van. Several of the dogs bristled at the llama, who imperiously surveyed the street from its tall neck. “What is going on?” I asked aloud.
A woman walking a corgi laughed and said, “It’s the Blessing of the Animals.” I fell into step beside her, and she continued, “Just up ahead at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.”
Friday had been the Feast Day of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals. How lucky that I stumbled onto this!
But when I reached the neo-Gothic cathedral and saw a table of good-postured St. Francis statues for sale, the saint’s kind face seemed to tease me, “Now, you don’t really think that was just luck, do you?”
Hundreds of people lined the sidewalks with their pets. Hundreds more were already inside, where a service was underway. Someone explained to me that a procession of “special” animals to the altar would take place—large animals mostly brought in from outside the city—then the entire congregation was invited to the side lawn, where several priests would bless all the animals in attendance. Dogs of every breed, including several good-natured and curious mutts, snuffled one another. Children carried hamsters, gerbils, and even fishbowls. One little girl in a green-checked coat carried a tortoise as big as a hatbox.
A hideous noise jolted me—a noise like a rusty engine trying to start. An exasperated man in a white robe pulled two donkeys with lead ropes. One donkey brayed.
The crowd hushed. A few dogs trembled. One near me growled, his tail between his legs.
The man acknowledged, “I know. A god-awful sound, isn’t it?” Everyone laughed.
The donkeys stopped, causing the man to hold up the procession. A white-robed woman led a camel past him into the church. The man sighed, leaning on one donkey, wet stains under his arms. “I have to do this,” he said under his breath. “I have to.” He looked at me and said, “I hauled them all the way from Connecticut. I promised my wife. We’d been invited for years but never made it. Now she’s in the— She’s in hospice.” He swallowed, scratching the black stripe that ran down the donkey’s spine. “I promised. We’re supposed to be after the camel.”
“Can I help you?” I asked him. He looked far too young for his wife to be in hospice.
He looked hopeful. “You know donkeys?”
“Not at all,” I admitted, “but I know horses.”
He shook his head. “Not the same thing at all. These guys are a piece of work, I tell ya.”
“Well, that camel is getting a huge head start.”
“Worth a try.” He handed me the lead rope for the male donkey. “If Jack goes, Jenny will usually follow him.”
I reached into my coat pocket. Sure enough—I should’ve been embarrassed but instead was grateful—I found a rubbery carrot and a piece of apple going leathery. I rubbed the mummified apple on Jack’s bristly muzzle. He stepped forward, eager to follow.
At first Jenny brayed again, which made a beagle in the crowd begin to howl, setting off a chain reaction of mournful wails. But Jack followed me, clomping right up the steps of the cathedral as if he did it every day. Once we were about to disappear into the church, Jenny shut up. Over my shoulder, I saw her marching forward, ears laid back, eyes glaring as if she couldn’t believe Jack had the audacity to leave her.
Inside, barking and howling punctuated the sermon in progress, but the sheer magnitude of the sanctuary caused a certain awe.
A ripple of panic zipped through me as I approached the priest. Everyone in the procession wore white but me. Was there something I was supposed to know? To do? I looked back at the man, but he was keeping a wary eye on Jenny—who seemed dead set on catching up to Jack, and if looks could kill, I’d be dragging a dead donkey.
The priest read words of St. Francis; they managed to penetrate my brain while I kept the donkey moving forward. “Creatures minister to our needs every day,” he said. “Without them we could not live, and through them the human race greatly offends the Creator every time we fail to appreciate so great a blessing.”
With those words, Jenny caught up to Jack and bit him on the butt. He squealed and kicked her, then bucked three times for good measure, causing people on the ends of the rows to crowd outward. I was mortified, but a collective chuckle rose up and echoed in the chamber.
Swack. I flinched as water dashed across my face. Jack snorted in surprise as it hit him, too. We were being blessed. I laughed, which may not have been appropriate, but the priest laughed, too. Before I knew it we were outside again and I wiped holy water from my face.
The man thanked me. “Why I ever agreed to bring these hooligans into a church . . .”
Why? Because he loved his wife, that’s why.
It’d all happened so fast. A boy stood on the lawn holding a goat. The goat looked up at me with yellow curry–colored eyes that seemed to laugh.
When Vijay hadn’t called me back by noon, I got online and ate the fee to change my flight. I packed my suitcase, left a note by the coffeemaker, and flew home a day early.