For Animal Lovers: St. Alphonsus and God's Creatures.

In a passage on the love of God, the saint writes: “I see almost all men applying themselves to the love—some of their parents, some of their friends, some of wealth, honors, or pleasures, and some even of dumb animals; but how many are they that love Thee, O infinite loveliness?” [Passion and Death of Jesus Christ, p. 156.]

I was taken aback by his phrase “even of dumb animals.” Yes, we should love God first and foremost, but by his wording it seemed to me that St. Alphonsus was certainly no St. Francis, and that he probably never had a pet. Well, I was wrong on both counts.

The following is from Life of St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Vol 1, by Austin Berthe, pp. 671-673.

“This sympathetic charity, grafted on his natural kindness, was extended to all God's creatures, even the animals. Alphonsus could not see them suffer without suffering himself. On Jan. 16, 1761, says an eye-witness, having found a little bird dying of cold he took it in his hands, tried to warm it, and then carried it to the kitchen, which he hardly ever entered, to see if he could revive it. But it was too late; a few hours later a brother showed him the little creature in a dying state. “No, no,” he said, turning away his face and going away quite sad, “I do not wish to see it!” On another occasion one of the fathers picked up a bird which had been wounded by a gun and brought it to our saint. Tears came into his eyes at the sight of the poor little creature mangled and bleeding. He told Brother Matthew to feed it and staunch its wounds with great care, and when after several days the wounded bird was healed, and able to use its wings, he set it at liberty.

“He delighted to gather the crumbs left on the table and give them after his meal to the chickens, which never failed to run towards him when they caught sight of him, however far off they might be. “The whole gallinaceous tribe used to flee at our approach,” says one father naively, “but our father had only to appear when all of them, big and little, came running towards him at full speed.”

“He was especially attached to those of God's creatures which symbolize innocence and purity, such as little birds and lambs. Father Corsano one day took to his cell a snow-white new-born lamb. Tears filled the saint's eyes, seeing as he did in the innocent creature the Lamb of God immolated for the salvation of the world. He gazed at it for some time, and then after caressing it gently and pressing it to his heart, gave it back to the fathers with the words: “I do not wish him to be killed.”

“Domestic animals found in him a friend and defender. One brother who had thrown a cat which had annoyed him out of the window was deprived of his fruit for eight days in punishment of his cruel action. During the famine of 1764, of which we will have to speak shortly, Alphonsus, then a bishop, while at table saw a poor, famished dog enter the room and painfully drag itself towards him. “Give him something to eat,” he said compassionately to the servant, “and look after him well while he lives.” The dog regained his strength, and the saint kept him out of pity. One day the servant beat the poor animal for some larceny of which he had been guilty in the kitchen. The dog's pitiful howling attracted the attention of Alphonsus. He came down-stairs and found the poor beast covered with blood. Not content with a stern rebuke to the servant the saint told him that if he wished to remain in his service he must never dare to mistreat an animal again.

“Two little incidents may be related which remind us of the Apostle St. John and of St. Francis of Assisi. The students made a present of two turtle doves to their good father, knowing that he would be pleased by the gift. The doves soon came to know him and followed him about wherever he went. When he was at his meals they would come towards him, pass to and fro before him and eat from his hand. When he had given them enough he used to say: “Now go off to your cage,” and away they went at once.

“Another day Alphonsus had given a bird its liberty. Nothing afforded him greater pleasure than to see the little captives spread their wings and fly away. This time the released prisoner instead of flying off into the distance perched on a bow almost within reach of its benefactor, and trilled forth its most joyous lays for quite a long time. Neither the nearness nor the laughter of its auditors intimidated it in the least; it sang its canticle of thanksgiving a hundred times over before it spread its wings and flew away. The servants of God, stripped of selfishness and self-love, seem in regaining innocence to regain the dominion which the first Adam before his fall exercised over all creatures, and the lives of the saints often make one think of the earthly paradise.

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