Recently, my wife and I lost one of our pets, a cat named Ariella (Elly for short), after she succumbed to lymphoma. She was a rescue cat we adopted five years ago, and she had a very sweet disposition. She loved relaxing on my lap. I remember fondly the odd way she’d roll over on her back (cats do not typically lie on their backs to sleep), look up at me with what always looked like a contented grin, purring, and drift into a nap quickly.
We were grief-stricken and truly miss her. When we first brought her home, she was frightened, hid for weeks and came out to eat at night, and bared her fangs and hissed at us if we came near. But she slowly warmed up to us and became a wonderful, trusting and contented little friend in the house and companion to our other cat Penny.
This has me left considering the place of pets in Catholic thinking. In homes around the world, pets are cherished companions — dogs greeting their owners with wagging tails, cats curling up on laps like Elly did, birds that sing, and even fish that glide gracefully around their softly bubbling aquariums. For many of us, these animal friends are more than just pets; they are members of families and homes.
With that in mind, what does the Catholic Church teach about our relationship with pets and other animals? Can they be part of our spiritual lives? Are they part of God’s plan?
First, all of creation is a gift from God. “God made every kind of wild animal, every kind of tame animal, and every kind of thing that crawls on the ground. God saw that it was good.” (Gn 1:25) Animals came before us, and God wants us to know they are good. After God created humans, we were given dominion over all of that creation. (Gn 1:26-28) This means we are stewards and not exploiters of God’s work.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church says, “Animals are God’s creatures. He surrounds them with his providential care. By their mere existence, they bless him and give him glory (¶2416).” We owe animals our consideration and are directed by the Catechism to “recall the gentleness with which saints like St. Francis of Assisi or St. Philip Neri treated animals (¶2416).” I’ve read that Pope Benedict XVI loved cats and have seen photos of him with felines on his lap.
These teachings encourage Catholics to treat animals with compassion and dignity. In Laudato Si, Pope Francis wrote, “Every act of cruelty towards any creature is contrary to human dignity. We can hardly consider ourselves to be fully loving if we disregard any aspect of reality (¶92).” Though God gave us dominion over creation, we are called by the Lord to refrain from engaging in rampant misuse of it. These perspectives call us to see pets as more than mere possessions. They are fellow creatures created by God.
To be clear, this does not preclude Catholics from activities like hunting and raising animals for food. Rather, we are called to go about those activities without imposing excessive torment on livestock or animals that are hunted.
When considering all of this, I think it’s natural to want them to be eternally happy, asking, “Do pets go to heaven?” Is a cat like Elly enjoying an infinite supply of tasty treats and fresh catnip in paradise?
According to the Catechism, “This perfect life with the Most Holy Trinity — this communion of life and love with the Trinity, with the Virgin Mary, the angels and all the blessed — is called heaven. Heaven is the ultimate end and fulfillment of the deepest human longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness (¶1024).”
This explanation has an a priori understanding that to be in heaven is to have been a thinking, self-aware human being with a soul, features that animals were not given by the Lord.
This presupposes rational souls, something not given by God to animals.
With that understood, though, and with those calls for sincere and responsible care for God’s creation, pets and other animals are esteemed in Catholic thinking.
St. Francis of Assisi was a great lover of nature and animals. Think of the wonderful account of St. Francis befriending and calming the wild and vicious wolf of Gubbio. In that spirit, the Church honors the relationship between humans and animals through the blessing of pets on or near St. Francis’ feast day (October 4). I’ve had the pleasure of taking part in those blessings occasionally. Pet blessings are sacramentals, which are visible and sacred signs drawing us into spiritual realities and encouraging our devotion to God.
While pets and other animals do not share in the sacraments, they do share in our lives and in the infinite love that God has for His creation. The Catholic Church invites us to see animals, especially our pets, as part of the divine mosaic of life that is creation. In caring for pets responsibly, we fulfill God’s call to us to be good stewards of His work.
Though created for a different purpose and destiny than our loving Lord has for us, I believe pets can help us live life on Earth more fully, compassionately and responsibly, as well as encouraging in us a deeper appreciation of God’s wondrous creative power. That is why I remember Elly so fondly, and I occasionally think, “Rest in peace, now, little friend. Rest in peace.”