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. (photos above from an old pet cemetery in Portsmouth, RI.)
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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