By RAY WADDLE

The first time I attended a Blessing of the Animals ceremony, 20 years ago, the snake got loose.

But nobody panicked. We were outdoors in the church garden on a fine afternoon, which had put everyone in a rosy mood. Everybody calmly stayed put with their canines, cats and occasional monkey until the serpent was fetched again, and paradise was restored.

A special serenity hovers over these unusual services. The Rev. John Stirewalt understands the appeal. He’s a Lutheran minister, family man and animal lover (three Labradors) who last year introduced the animal-blessing rite to his congregation, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church on Sneed Road.

The first time yielded a snout count of just two Dobermans and a Lab (plus owners). This year’s turnout, a couple of weeks ago, included a dozen dogs, a calico cat and a headstrong hamster. Next year, Stirewalt envisions additional guests -- goats, cattle, horses. The church’s seven-acre spread accompanies all comers.

“These animals are our companions in this life.” he says. “A Blessing of the Animals affirms God’s involvement with all the created order.”

At the dusky Oct. 4 service, the beasts looked restless at first. Lots of wet noses snuffling around. (My and my wife’s dog, a Corgi comedian named Sadie, made a show of getting tangled in her leash while lobbying for church-sponsored treats at a nearby table.)

Unperturbed, the pastor started the liturgy.

He: “May God, who wondrously works among us, be with you all.”

We: “And also with you.”

Lo and behold, the animal kingdom settled down. We formed a semi-circle around the minister. When he called each of us forward with our pets for a personal blessing, the animals ambled up (it seemed to me) with poise, even respect for the occasion.

At Sadie’s turn, Stirewalt looked into her eyes and declared, “Sadie ... may you and Lisa and Ray enjoy life together and find joy with the God who created you.” Our pious pooch looked alert and dignified, as if accepting her role in a story as old as Genesis.

Were these animals magically blessed? Stirewalt doesn’t make that claim. The ceremony is for the humans as much as the creatures -- a social event, but also a statement of ecological responsibility and connectedness on island Earth.

“It’s a reminder of our bonds with all things. We ought to be walking together on this planet.”

Too bad most Protestant churches still neglect these services as too New Age, or too Catholic, since they’re scheduled around the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi.

(Stirewalt: “Protestants forget they’re reformed Catholics.”)

But it’s no wonder they’re gaining popularity. Seeking the heart of God among the critters deepens the surrounding holiness. It melts human woe and worry, for a time. We were all blessed that day.