The thing is, I'm writing a piece on pet cemeteries for the August pet issue of Prime Time magazine and given my interest in how our species deals with death, I was intrigued by how (some folks) grapple with the death of a household pet. I grew up with dogs and as a young man had several dogs for friends -- I recall a Lhasa Apso by the name of Milton in particular. One minute we were playing on the floor of my parent's basement and the next he was gone -- a cerebral aneurysm I was told later.
Just recently we learned that not one but two of our friends have lost their own good friends -- and I think it's probably safe to say that a good companion and friend taken from us is never an easy loss to bear. For some, the grieving process calls for finding a way to memorialize the importance that "Metronome" or "Gwitty" or "Bandit" had on their lives, to share their sense of loss with others seems, I suppose, a crucial step in getting on with their own lives.
I suspect that it's not just the loss of a "good walking pal" or a "playful puppy" that has left such a large hole in so many lives. I wonder if what isn't really missed is the loss of such utterly and absolutely unconditional love and loyalty that seems to be second nature to the family pet; attributes that some believe they may never we'll never find anywhere else.
So, this last Saturday I drove over to Massachusetts and paid a visit to the Angelview pet cemetery and crematorium. It was an absolutely beautiful day, a bit warm perhaps but still a wonderful day to be outside, strolling the grounds, contemplating the many memories of absent friends:
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