St Blaise

Two degrees at 8am. Damp and cold. Soggy with slushy snow underfoot.

Today in Carmine, Mama continues to try to minister to sick (and decidedly ungrateful) animals.

In line with my promise to raise my children with some knowledge of the Catholic faith (being an Anglican myself), I've been reading up about saints again. And, coincidentally, I find that today is the memorial day of St Blaise, the Armenian bishop known as a healer of both people and animals. It is said that wild animals came to his cave in the woods of their own accord to be healed when they were sick, but that they would never disturb him while he was at prayer. Sweet. Carmine animals are respectors of neither prayer nor sleep.

And the Romans also had no such compunctions. Blaise was discovered at prayer in his forest retreat by a bunch of Roman hunters looking for animals to use in the games. He was thrown into jail, where, among other things, he healed a child who had a fish bone lodged in her throat (hence the above image). When he did not recant, he was thrown into a lake to drown. He didn't. Instead, he stood on the surface of the water and invited his persecutors to step out onto the waves to prove the power of their gods. They did. And they drowned. This of course didn't stop the Romans, who redoubled their efforts to torture and murder him. I won't give you the details, but it's all pretty bloody, involving as it did an iron wool comb (don't go there).


Blaise is one of a group of Fourteen Holy Helpers who are called upon to help in times of great distress, such as the plague. There's nothing like teamwork when the going gets tough.


He's the patron of vets, animals and workers-with-wool, as well as builders, carvers, stonecutters and construction workers. He is also said to protect against wild beasts, whooping cough, throat diseases and coughs, and so would be particularly useful in this house this winter. You may see him pictured carrying the wool comb I mentioned with a shudder above.

Oh, yes, and he's the protector of Dubrovnik, Croatia. And that reminds me of something I vaguely remember, called a holiday...

Image: http://www.saints.sqpn.com/