About twenty-five dogs were there, a few of them rather obviously old or infirm, plus a long-haired cat in a carrier, a bunny on a little boy's lap, and a red-eared slider being affectionately stroked by a middle-aged lady. A lectern had been set up for the priest atop a raised planting bed, and rows of chairs provided for the pet owners.
After introductory remarks, a reading from Scriptures, and a sermon, the priest stepped down (well, fell off of the wall, actually, but without apparent injury) and announced he was going to walk amongst us, reciting a blessing and sprinkling the animals with holy water.
"Please tell your pets I come as a friend," he implored, only half-humorously.
That's the priest on the left wielding the aspergillum, the altar boy in the middle with the basin of holy water, and Taz, of course, distracted enough by the operation to leave off licking Donna's face for a moment.
I have to say I had been a little apprehensive about taking such a wired dog into a crowd of other animals, but in fact she was quite well-behaved. She seemed almost intimidated by the numbers and by the novelty of the situation. Or maybe she knew she was in the presence of holiness.