Dogs are said to be the embodiment of happiness and unconditional love. And if that sounds very Zen-like, well, there’s a pup at a Buddhist temple in Naha, Okinawa, that might just prove the point.

Conan, a long-haired Chihuahua, has mastered how to properly behave and offer prayers in the temple. He’s been offering prayers since he was 5 months old.

During a recent visit to a Zen temple near Shuri Castle, a visitor found Conan sitting up straight on his hind legs, his front paws together and looking up at his master, Joei Yoshikuni, the temple’s 29th-generation priest.

Conan lives with his human family members in Jigen In, a temple of the Rinzai Zen sect, better known as Shuri Kannon Do.

Every day, Conan accompanies Yoshikuni to the temple’s main hall, sitting up in a prayer position while his master reads a sutra in offering morning prayers. “He does it to the rhythm of a sutra I chant,” Yoshikuni said as he cast a gentle look at his furry disciple.

“I came up with an idea to teach him, a Buddhist temple dog, the basic worshipping posture,” he said.

Bribing the dog with a treat, Yoshikuni showed him the praying posture. Within a few days, Conan mastered it, he said.

Word about the praying dog quickly spread throughout the island and, eventually, worldwide. As his popularity grew, more people, especially younger people, began visiting the temple.

These days there is an endless stream of visitors to the temple, which stands on a hilltop overlooking the city of Naha.

Yoshikuni said that his temple occasionally offers zazen, or sitting meditation, for Americans.

“It is our pleasure if Americans can get firsthand experience of Japanese culture here at our temple,” he said of the structure that was built in 1618 by King Sho of the Ryukyus.

“Zazen will help you to seek the true self by emptying your self-consciousness and judgmental thinking,” said Yoshikuni’s father, Jogen Yoshikuni, the chief priest.

Sitting straight and pressing your hands together is a posture to symbolize humbling yourself and meditating to see things with your mind’s eye, he said.

The chief priest said he is pleased to see Conan following the teaching — in form, at least.

The younger Yoshikuni, however, wonders what is in Conan’s mind when the seven-pound canine makes the worship posture.

"Probably food,” he laughed. “Because I trained him with a treat, he probably associates the posture with a treat.”

A veterinarian figured the same.

“It could be conditional reflex, called Pavlovian response,” said Hidekazu Ikehara of the Ikehara Animal Hospital in Okinawa City as he examined the images of Conan posted on the Internet. “He must have learned that he will be praised by making the gesture.”

Dogs also watch behaviors of human beings and try to imitate them, especially when they learn that it pleases their owner, he said, noting that the intelligence of an adult dog matches that of a 3-year-old child. Some seeing-eye dogs achieve the level of a 5-year-old human, he added.

“They imitate what human beings do. That is why dogs take on the dispositions of their owners,” Ikehara said.

Conan seems to have perfectly adapted to life in the temple. “Everything he does, he does it with a prayer,” Joei Yoshikuni said. The dog prays before his two meals and before he goes out for a walk three times a day.

Whether he’s motivated only by food or by some canine spiritual calling, probably only dog knows.

At St. Francis Episcopal Church in Stamford, Connecticut, the pews are filled with some unlikely worshipers. Dogs sit by their owners' sides and cats peer out from carriers during a monthly pet-friendly service.

Barks and purrs—or "prayer noises," as the church calls them—can be heard during the afternoon celebration of Eucharist, in which people receive communion and pets a special blessing. The half-hour service focuses on the special relationships people have with their animals, says Rev. Mark Lingle. "At our church there are a number of people who are single or who have lost a loved one, and their pet is one of their primary relationships," he said.

The church's special service is part of a growing movement among places of worship, some of which not only recognize the human-animal bond but offer pet owners support and services almost unheard of a decade ago. In addition to special blessings or regular church services, these places hold private pet memorials or burials and offer grief counseling to comfort members whose pets have died.

Dealing With Loss
Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels of Beth Shir Sholom, a progressive reform Jewish synagogue in Santa Monica, California, says that when a pet dies, owners suffer the same grief as they would over the loss of a human.

For years he's made condolence calls or visits with members of his congregation whose pets have died. And after each service he says a prayer for members mourning the loss of an animal or human. "It's something people don't necessarily expect their synagogue to do, which is to recognize how important their animals are in their lives," he said.

An increasing number of churches and synagogues are recognizing the animal-human bond with activities such as pet-friendly services and private memorials.

For example, the congregation at the Beth Shir Sholom temple in Santa Monica, California, holds a "Bark Mitzvah
" each spring during the Jewish holiday of Purim. The annual ritual for pets is a lark, with spoofs of songs and prayers, says Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels. But when it comes time to bless the animals, people take it very seriously.

Rev. Gill Babeu, a Catholic priest at St. Bridget of Ireland in Stamford, Connecticut, says he understands the pain of losing a beloved companion animal. Six months ago he was devastated by the death of his poodle, Louise Frances, and fell into a deep depression.

Even though the church does not condone masses or funerals for pets, Babeu still presides over backyard burials by reciting a simple prayer. When asked if there are dogs in heaven, he replied: "Well, the church says no. But I really believe I'm going to see my little doggie when I get there."

Chaplain Duty
Rob Gierka is a new breed of chaplain. Originally trained to provide pastoral care at hospitals, he now consoles North Carolina pet owners whose animals are sick or dying. Gierka grew up in a houseful of animals and experienced a deep sadness with each one's passing, he says. But no one ever acknowledged his feelings or seemed to care about his pets' deaths.

Today the Baptist chaplain provides clients at a local animal-rehabilitation center with what he didn't have as a child—a shoulder to cry on. The soft-spoken chaplain also oversees private memorial services where he plays guitar and recites a few prayers. And he provides emotional support for owners during euthanasia procedures.

Gierka says he's careful not to impose any religious views on the owners he counsels. But most veterinary hospitals struggle with the issue of religion and pet care and shy away from Gierka's services, which are offered for free, he says. "It's an uphill climb to try to get these large veterinary hospitals to accept pet chaplains," he said. "But I know it was the same uphill battle for chaplains in human hospitals." In the future Gierka would like to see an army of trained pet chaplains around the country.

A Place to Rest
In New Providence, New Jersey, a garden at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church offers animal owners, regardless of their religious affiliation, a final resting place for their pets. Created some 40 years ago, the pet cemetery is believed to be the only one located on church grounds in the United States.

The ashes of more than a hundred faithful companions are buried in the flower-filled garden. No headstones mark the grave sites. Instead a memorial book with photos of all the buried animals is kept in the church. "People's pets become part of their family, and it helps their grieving to have a prayer and a special place to bury them," church rector Margaret Hodgkins said.

As religious leaders begin to recognize the human-animal bond, some Episcopal Church leaders have gone a step further by raising awareness of various animal issues such as cruelty, neglect, and exploitation.

The Episcopal Network for Animal Welfare—launched two years ago—has about 200 members as well as 15 churches that have pledged to be "animal friendly." The churches must hold an animal-blessing service each year, provide pastoral care and prayer for members grieving the loss or illness of a pet, serve vegetarian fare during community meals, and agree not to hold fundraisers that center on the killing of animals, such as pig roasts and lobster boils.

"People get a lot of flak for caring about animals," said Rev. Rebecca Deinsen, a priest in Worthington, Ohio, who helped start the network. "This gives people a sense of support and of community."

Christians' views of animals are slowly changing for the better, says Andrew Linzey, an Anglican priest and author of several books on the subject, including Animal Rights: A Historical Anthology. Historically, Christian theology has been against animals, Linzey says, regarding them as little more than lumps of meat. "It may be that we exploit animals so much precisely because we have such a spiritually impoverished view of their status," Linzey said. "The Christian mind should be [that] we are given life by a generous creator," he said. "And we in turn, in the image of God, must show that generosity to other creatures."