The Canine Chorus and the Crumbling Dignity of Worship
Right, let’s just unpack this, shall we? Pets in pews. Really? Pets in pews? Apparently, Londons St. Something-or-Other has decided that the hallowed ground where hymns should be sung is now a petting zoo. Because apparently, solemn contemplation and spiritual reflection are best achieved while dodging a wagging tail and inhaling an aroma distinctly reminiscent of wet dog.
I suppose it’s all about being “inclusive” now, isn’t it? Cant leave out Fluffy and Mr. Bigglesworth from the festive cheer. Never mind that these sacred spaces were built for quiet reverence, not a chorus of panting and occasional barks disrupting the readings from scripture. I can practically hear the angels weeping.
And what next? Will we be bringing our hamsters to funerals? Our goldfish to confirmations? Are we going to start demanding special designated areas for gerbils during Lent? The sheer absurdity of it all!
Its a slippery slope, this relentless erosion of tradition and respect. Its the triumph of sentimentality over substance, a blatant attempt to manufacture ‘warm fuzzies’ at the expense of genuine faith. Honestly, I expect well be hearing carols sung in unison by a choir of chihuahuas before too long. The world has officially lost its marbles.
