9/30/22 - Friday Forget-Me-Nots by Jim Silcott

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Dear Our Lady of Peace Family,

This weekend, Father Dooley will gather all on the front lawn of the church to bless your pets. This is done in honor of St. Francis of Assisi who feast day is October 4.

I know that many of you have pets. Sometimes you hear the phrase, “you own your pets,” but to true pet lovers these animals of all kinds, shapes and sizes are much more than purchased property. They are an extension of the family, a companion to young and old, and an opportunity for us to love and care for those who depend upon us.

At my house, we are currently without any pets. My stepson’s dog, Toodles, died this summer after a long dog life of perhaps 14 or 15. It was not known for certain as Stephen and my wife adopted this little mutt from the dog shelter. Stephen had grown up with Toodles, and it hit him the hardest of all of us.

When I got married three and a half years ago, I brought two parakeets into the mix, Louie and Lily. Lily had an untimely demise when she got out of the cage and flew full force into a window. Louie died of natural causes at the age of eleven.

Many of the students here know that I do have pets of a kind on the desk in my office. They are tiny shrimp who live in a sealed ecosphere globe. Three of them, down from the original five, have lived on my desk for nine years. They are the easiest pets I have ever had. They need no walking, feeding or cleaning. All that they need to sustain them are inside the glass bubble.

My family have always favored dogs, mostly big ones. I grew up with a Black Lab/German Shephard mix, named by my brother for some reason, Christopher Blue. My kids grew up with Golden Retrievers. My son, Braden has one now, Benny the Jet. In my college days I did have a gray cat named Mrs. Slipslop who came and went as she saw fit, and actually could see the ghost with whom I lived (for another time).

When I was a kid getting my monthly Boy Scout magazine, Boys Life, there would run an ad in the back every month for adorable spider monkeys which could be had for $16.95. Each month I begged my parents to let me get one. They were wise and refused my pleas. In high school I found a small black dog wandering around St. Charles. I took her home assuming she was a puppy and would grow up to be another big black lab so I named her Bubba after the iconic Colts football player. Bubba never grew. It is actually thought that she had some Chihuahua in her!

There are of course pets of many species: gerbils, hamsters, fish, snakes, turtles, and hermit crabs. Some adventurous souls keep ferrets, pigs, and huge talking parrots as pets. My grandson, Brady, currently houses a lizard in his room. No matter the kind, we always name our pets. As children we promise to do all the work necessary for their care and then end up giving much of the responsibility to our parents. Except for goldfish who tend to have a burial in the ceramic sea of the bathroom, we bury our pets with solemnity and dignity, mourning them sincerity and grief.

They say that pet owners come to resemble the animals they keep (I am not sure what that says about me and my shrimp) but we do seem to latch on to pets whose personality traits are similar to ours. I have a next-door neighbor who, like the Hound Dog who roams the yard next door, makes a lot of noise for no good reason. We also tend to stereotype people by the pets we own. “She’s a cat lady,” we will say, or “He is a strange guy, he keeps a big ole’ hairy tarantula in his living room.”

St. Francis is known for his love of all creatures which is why he is the patron saint of pets. The care we have for our extended family is another opportunity to care for God’s creation and to be thankful for the wonderful and beautiful world He has gifted us with. May we care for all creatures, great and small and do the same for each other.

Jim Silcott