The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,83

I stayed awake longer, content to listen to the rain and breathe the scent of his neck. I pictured being this man’s wife, living here in this house. I imagined Gerald and Max here on the bed. I wondered where I’d board my horse.

My horse. Moonshot could not be taken from me.

WHEN I FINALLY DRIFTED OFF, I SLEPT AS IF DEAD, NOT hearing anything, not remembering any dreams. I rolled toward the bacon-y post-carbonara scent of Vijay, pushing my arms through the sheets. My hands met pillow. I was in the bed alone. The clock shone 8:30. “Vijay?” I called.

Outside cabs honked, a distant police siren yelped twice, and two people carried on a conversation in Spanish. Inside the house, I heard nothing. No. Way. No goddamn way.

Next to the coffeemaker was a note. “New MRSA case—interview with patient this morning. Hated to wake you. I promise to do some ‘shopping’ before I come home.”

I wadded up the note, then threw it at the fridge. I called Vijay’s cell, got his voice mail, and left a message, “Call me, okay? When will you be back? I need to talk to you. Soon.”

I showered. I dressed. I drank coffee. I missed my beautiful daughter.

Church bells tolled, and an unbearable longing to be near animals rushed into me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

ALMOST IMMEDIATELY UPON REACHING CENTRAL PARK, the faint perfume of horse manure comforted me. I watched a dappled gray Belgian pulling a carriage, the hollow clop of hooves on the pavement releasing my shoulders and clenched fists.

I stood on the sidewalk, reveling in the hints of autumn colors to come, when my attention was caught by a magnificent harlequin Great Dane leading its owners on a walk.

Across the street, a girl with her parents walked a Maine Coone cat in a harness. It looked so jaunty trotting stiff-legged down the sidewalk that I laughed aloud.

Although I’d planned to head into the park, I decided I’d follow this rakish cat for a bit. As I waited to cross the street, a young girl beside me held what I first thought was an old-fashioned muff but then recognized was a live rabbit.

We crossed with the light, following the marching cat and the Great Dane, along with a couple walking two standard poodles.

At the next intersection, all of us going in the same direction, I saw a girl with a Persian cat in a carrier. A woman in a fur coat carried a Chihuahua. A white rat rode on an old man’s shoulder. Was this a dream?

Across the street, as this procession of animals headed up Amsterdam, I saw people unloading a llama from a van. Several of the dogs bristled at the llama, who imperiously surveyed the street from its tall neck. “What is going on?” I asked aloud.

A woman walking a corgi laughed and said, “It’s the Blessing of the Animals.” I fell into step beside her, and she continued, “Just up ahead at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine.”

Friday had been the Feast Day of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals. How lucky that I stumbled onto this!

But when I reached the neo-Gothic cathedral and saw a table of good-postured St. Francis statues for sale, the saint’s kind face seemed to tease me, “Now, you don’t really think that was just luck, do you?”

Hundreds of people lined the sidewalks with their pets. Hundreds more were already inside, where a service was underway. Someone explained to me that a procession of “special” animals to the altar would take place—large animals mostly brought in from outside the city—then the entire congregation was invited to the side lawn, where several priests would bless all the animals in attendance. Dogs of every breed, including several good-natured and curious mutts, snuffled one another. Children carried hamsters, gerbils, and even fishbowls. One little girl in a green-checked coat carried a tortoise as big as a hatbox.

A hideous noise jolted me—a noise like a rusty engine trying to start. An exasperated man in a white robe pulled two donkeys with lead ropes. One donkey brayed.

The crowd hushed. A few dogs trembled. One near me growled, his tail between his legs.

The man acknowledged, “I know. A god-awful sound, isn’t it?” Everyone laughed.

The donkeys stopped, causing the man to hold up the procession. A white-robed woman led a camel past him into the church. The man sighed, leaning on one donkey, wet stains under his arms. “I have to do this,” he said under his breath. “I have to.” He looked