"A person could learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours."

John Grogan, a columnist for The Philadelphia Inquirer, penned those words just days after the death of his family's Labrador retriever named Marley. His loving farewell to a drooling dynamo of a dog touched universal sentiments among pet owners.

"Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy," he wrote in the Jan. 4, 2004 column. "He taught me to appreciate the simple things --- a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight.

"Mostly," continued Grogan, "he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty."

The story of his dog's death would change Grogan's life.

On the day the column appeared he received 800 e-mails or phone calls, about 30 times the usual reaction. He developed its themes into what has become one of this decade's most popular books, "Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog." It has been a fixture at or near the top of the New York Times' best seller list for almost a year.

The popularity of "Marley" underscores one reason why St. Francis of Assisi, whose Oct. 4 feast day is approaching, is one of the church's most recognizable and beloved figures. While there is a depth to St. Francis' spirituality that is still being mined eight centuries after his death, the average U.S. Catholic knows him for two simple reasons: the peace prayer attributed to him, and his status as patron saint of animals.

In a nation where, at last count, there are 90 million cats, 74 million dogs, and millions more birds, fish, reptiles and assorted small animals sharing life under our roofs, it's no wonder so many relate to Francis' description of God's creatures as our "brothers and sisters."

Count me among them. Unfortunately, all too soon I will have to bid farewell to my own four-legged, furry friend, a Shetland Sheepdog named Angie. She is nearly 13, Marley's age when he died. And like Marley near the end, Angie has gone deaf, sleeps most of the day, slowly trudges up steps she used to bound, and has few remaining teeth with which to shred a rawhide bone. The most telling sign of what's ahead? Angie no longer wants to go on the nightly neighborhood walk she used to demand.

Memories of Angie's role in our family could fill a book, too. (I might subtitle hers "A Great Dog with the World's Worst Breath.") But instead of composing a farewell after Angie's inevitable passing, I'm going to celebrate her life now by expanding on the truth Grogan raised in his column.

Not only can a person learn a lot about life from a pet, a person can learn a lot about God.

Throughout Angie's life I've received glimpses of unconditional love, unbridled joy, and comforting presence when I am troubled. As odd as it may sound, I picture God as happy and excited to see me arrive at Mass or adoration hour as Angie is when I come home from work. She prances and spins with glee.

And those late-night walks! Sometimes it took incessant barking and whimpering to get me off the couch, but those quiet strolls through the neighborhood often became golden periods of evening prayer. I find the canopy of moon and stars as inspiring as any cathedral.

As we trod silently beneath it, Angie would sniff every new smell, while my thoughts turned to the vastness of God's creation. The pondering of heaven also inspired nightly prayers for my late parents and other family and friends who had died or are now separated by miles.

Without Angie's insistence, I likely would have chosen a mindless television reality show over the wondrous reality waiting outside my door.

One of St. Francis' most famous sermons was reportedly given to a flock of birds. Passing trees full of them, Francis left his friar companions and urged the birds to praise their Creator who "protects and governs you without any solicitude on your part."

As we approach St. Francis' feast day on Oct. 4 --- a day when many Catholic parishes schedule blessings of pets --- I suggest that pets and all of God's creatures are blessings. I'm grateful for all these brothers and sisters offer and teach us, especially a few sermons modeled by a great dog with the world's worst breath.

Tom Dermody is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Post, newspaper of the Diocese of Peoria, Ill., and a 27-year veteran of the Catholic press. If you agree that a pet can be good for one's spiritual life, or can cite examples of how your pet has taught you about God, Dermody would like to hear from you. E-mail him (tdermody@cdop.org) or send a letter in care of The Catholic Post, P.O. Box 1722 , Peoria , IL , 61656.