All creatures great and small
Jeremy Clarke rr he Reverend Nicola Hunt of St Peter's, Ugborough, welcomed us to the St Francis of Assisi Day animal service. Yes, she had seen the Vicar of Dibley episode in which there had been an amusing portrayal of an animal service. Looking around the congregation, we hadn't brought quite the wide variety of animals that the people of Dibley had taken to church, which was perhaps just as well, she said. Nevertheless, she was very glad to see that we had a lovely donkey here with us today. We turned around in our seats and beamed our best Anglican smile of welcome at the donkey in the back row.
George and I were in the front row, which was reserved for dogs and their owners. George is a Border terrier belonging to my brother, who is on holiday in Florida. In the front row, lying, sitting or standing at the feet of their owners, were a Jack Russell, a whippet, a corgi, a sheltie, a black labrador and a poodle cross cocker spaniel cross shih tzu. The last was an intentional cross, said the owner, sanctioned by the Hearing Dogs for the Deaf organisation.
The row behind was reserved for smaller, caged pets such as hamsters, rabbits and guinea pigs. There was also an owl and a tiny black kitten. George's attention was galvanised by the pair of guinea pigs in a carrying box behind us. The box was resting on the bare knees of a little girl called Alice. The guinea pigs, called Coco and Gypsy, were visible through the air vents.
After the vicar's word of welcome, Alice went to the front to read the lesson, which was taken from Genesis, chapter 1: And God said, 'Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind. And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.
I hadn't realised just how keen God is on cattle until I heard Alice read that. If by some fluke I get to heaven and spend eternity with God, will some of our time together be spent leaning on the top rail of a five-bar gate admiring his pedigree herd? I wondered. I hoped so. Continuing in this speculative vein, I hoped, too, that from time to time either God or I would ring a little silver bell, and when the servant appeared say, 'Two teas, please, Rowan.'
After the reading, the Reverend Hunt said she had planned to play us a recording of a group of nomadic African pastoralists taking their cattle out to graze at sunrise and chanting to them, and the cattle bellowing in response. But owing to a technical problem with the sound system she'd had to abandon the idea. This was by far the biggest disappointment I have encountered so far this year.
Next we read aloud together a version of the Lord's Prayer from which the cadences and lovely rhythm had been carefully excised to make it sound banal and sort of modern. Then we sang 'He's Got the Whole World in His Hands'. Finally the vicar blessed the pets. Instead of us leading them up to the front to be individually blessed, as I'd hoped, she asked us to stand up and place our hands on our own pets so that they would receive the blessing 'all in one go'.
I looked around. Half a dozen people were laying loving hands on an unconcerned donkey. The rabbit, the kitten, and the hamsters had hands great and small placed on them also. Alice had opened the lid and had managed to pin Coco and Gypsy to the box floor. Only the owl was deemed too fragile or too dangerous to warrant hands being placed on it. The man who'd brought him spread his palms on the top of the cage instead. Far from minding about this, the owl was studying the donkey in the same way that the late Sir John Gielgud might have examined a stale sausage roll.
'We thank you for giving us these pets who bring us joy,' said the vicar gloomily. I bent down and placed a hand on George, who was staring at Alice's carrying box and quivering with anticipation. He'd got it into his head that, whatever they were, Coco and Gypsy must be broken up as soon as possible. He was almost beside himself with the desire to annihilate them. 'Help us to love and care for everything on earth,' the vicar went on, 'to value every single creature in the whole world.'
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