Let us bray, woof and bleat: a holy day for parishioners’ pets

Leftie and her owner Monica Ovalle of San Bruno wait during a service of the Blessing of the Animals at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, Calif., on Sunday, October 1, 2017. Leftie and her owner Monica Ovalle of San Bruno wait during a service of the Blessing of the Animals at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, Calif., on Sunday, October 1, 2017. Photo: Carlos Avila Gonzalez/The Chronicle Photo: Carlos Avila Gonzalez/The Chronicle Image 1 of / 32 Caption Close Let us bray, woof and bleat: a holy day for parishioners’ pets 1 / 32 Back to Gallery

A clergywoman draped in purple stood in the pulpit at Grace Cathedral, arms lifted in the air.

“Raise your voices,” she said to the Episcopal congregation. A choir of white-clad men and women belted out, “Hallelujah.” Parishioners in their Sunday-morning best held their sheet music and sang. Their dogs obliged, too.

Or interrupted, really.

“Ay-oo,” howled Zoya, an 8-year-old husky. Her owner, Jihan Jiha, 15, who lives in Walnut Creek, hushed her.

“She’s normally good,” Jihan said, whispering to the pup. “Sometimes she just wants to sing when everyone else does.”

There was a lot of that kind of yipping and yapping going on at Grace Cathedral on Sunday. Not to mention meowing, slithering or just plain grunting. The cathedral’s pews were packed with critters for the annual Feast of St. Francis and Blessing of the Animals, which honors the city’s patron saint.

During one early morning service, a sheepdog fell asleep in the aisle, softly snoring through the homily. A basset hound’s tail thumped against the ground. A yellow Lab with white whiskers attempted an escape, his leash slipping through his owner’s grasp. (The man was unsure whether all dogs do go to heaven — or if his would be the exception.)

In the fourth century, St. Anthony of the Desert became the first to bring animals into the church for a blessing. It is now an annual tradition celebrated all over the United States on the feast day of St. Francis, who was named the patron saint of ecology in 1979, and was by all accounts a dog and cat fan. Churches around San Francisco open their pews to all species of parishioners.

Grace Cathedral clergy have blessed boa constrictors, a beehive, goldfish, parrots, dogs, baby tigers and even some San Francisco Police Department horses, who came for Sunday’s homily but left early because of the organ. Big sounds from big pipes freaked them out.

“Usually someone will bark or make a hissy fit and the priest will just have to roll with it,” said Lance Wood, a 70-year-old usher from Richmond. His schnauzer, Vilja, assisted with Woods’ church duties Sunday morning.

“This one has been blessed more times than I can count,” he said. “Maybe 11? She is 11 years old. It’s nice they acknowledge the animals. The sermon involves pets being a gift. They are.”

Grace Cathedral Dean Malcolm Clemens Young said animals were another conduit for finding God. They have their own inner life, he told the congregation.

“Why do we bless animals in church?” he said, pausing as an eager mutt barked in response. “We come into God through our encounter with animals.”

Even if they don’t fit the prescribed views of the church. Cathy Broder of Oakland said she had been bringing her Samoyed, Lexi Mari, to the cathedral for nearly seven years.

“I want her to be healthy and safe,” Broder said, adding that Lexi had lost her right eye to glaucoma. “I don’t want her to be in pain. Normally she is a Jewish dog. But I think the blessing still translates.”

Lexi — short for Alexandria, for the last tsarina of Russia — yipped and blinked, then nosed Broder’s hand.

Nearby, Angie Bailie of Lafayette hoisted her small pup Ace into her arms for a photo with a statue of St. Francis. His ears folded back as the iPhone flash went off.

“Can you take a second one?” Bailie said, shifting him in her arms. “We want him to get the blessing. It’s his first time here. I use him in companion therapy in nursing homes and hospices. We are hoping he can pass those blessings along.”

She set Ace on the floor, and he wagged his tail so hard his butt wiggled.

“Woof,” Ace, a very good boy, said.

Lizzie Johnson is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: ljohnson@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @LizzieJohnsonnn