He is a welcome sight at the Dogs Day Inn, and even more welcome at the Warren City Pound. The cacophenous barking and yowling that greets him is music to his ears, and he walks slowly between the cages, his Book held close to his heart and his flowing black robes gently caressing the piss-stained concrete.
His name is Earnest Heartwell. father Earnest Heartwell; and he is the dog priest of Macomb County, Michigan.
His two certified unmolested* acolytes precede him, bearing candles, fuel and bundles of supplies. In a rush to set up for him near the grooming stalls, one young man accidentally drops his load on the floor, much to the consternation of the watching animal control workers.
It is but a quick moment, and nerves are calmed by Father Earnest’s gentle words. A drum of water is shoved into place and a wooden board placed atop. There is no official pulpit for Heartwell, but he brings the church with him, and his pulpit is wherever he sets the Book down.
He turns to face the yapping, jumping, shitting crowd of canine creation and raises his hands.
As one, the dogs sit, rapt attention lavished on this beloved man of the cloth, as he begins the service.
”Rowf!” begins Father Earnest, “Bor-rowf-rowf-rowf!”
”Yip Yip Yip Woof!” the dogs respond. There is much wagging of tails and dangling of tongues from the faithful, and Earnest goes on.
”Ruh! Ruh! RrrrrrrAWR!!!”
”Baruff ruff, wrowr bark! Ruff ruff bo-woof, yap yap yap!”
”Grrrrrr….”
”Rowf rowf rowf rowf rowf rwof!”
”Browoof rowoof roww roww.”
”Yip! **whimper**”
The dogs, as one, chant, “grrrrrrr….”
It is soon time for communion, and Earnest’s acolytes prepare the bowls of fortified wine and MilkBone dog biscuits.
”Unleavened bread, dog biscuits,” Earnest begins dismissively when asked about the Milk Bones, “Whatever. When God decides to transform cereal based foodstuffs into the living flesh of Jesus, what possible difference can it make if the body of Christ takes the form of a bone-shaped doggy treat or a tasteless, dopey wheat wafer?”
There is a brief commotion as a Mastiff, apparently deciding he was not in a spiritual state suitable for communion, begins humping the leg of a now-uncertified** acolyte. They are separated by the animal control workers as the rest of the congregation looks on, jumping, barking and howling nervously. The sobbing boy is escorted out of the pound to the waiting church bus as Father Earnest, ever the trooper, begins performing the Eucharist.
Soon all but a mutt proclaiming Islam, an atheistic Yorkshire Terrier and the aforementioned Mastiff have been administered the sacrament and have been hustled back into their waiting pens.
Father Earnest is happy to serve the Lord. He performs the benedictus as he and his remaining acolyte proceed out of the now-blessed pound, the acolyte humming a recessional hymn as loudly as he can considering the renewed vigor of the barking, yapping, slobbering horde of dogs. Dogs that, thanks to Father Earnest Hartwell, are now in a state of doggy grace.
* the examinations and tests are exhaustive, but the high price commanded by unmolested churchboys at Catholic supply warehouses makes it worth the effort.
** The boy is no worth 80% less on the open market.
Hey, Red Hot Sexy poppa interviewed yours-truly! Go read all about it HERE.
His handler leads him in, and the two of them pass in front of the crowd. The parishioners go wild, screaming, crying, and throwing their sack-cloth undergarments toward the stage and the shining pulpit. Those in the first pew swoon, and an assigned usher rushes in with a bucket of smelling salts and wet towels to revive the more delicate lasses.
Last week I received a bill from my cell phone company. According to them, I owed $0. Also, I needed to pay it by Feb 15th, or I would be assessed a late fee.*
