Now listen! Don't get your knickers in a knot! I have buried plenty of beloved dogs in my time. I have ashes on a shelf. Dundee and Mr. Tweeligers broke my heart when they died after 17 long years of love and devotion. I know the grief losing a beloved pet brings. Dogs are like family! Who else greets us like we are the bomb diggity EACH and EVERY TIME we walk through the door?
So, Uncle Bill, I understand your need to bury your beloved Mr. Mike, who, by the way, was a girl dog. (I didn't even ask....) But I still have to tell it like it is.
My dad offered to take eccentric Uncle Bill to the dog cemetery to bury his dog on Friday. Due to some extenuating and painful circumstances, Dad needed to stay at home and deal with some important family business. Poor child #4. She got the shit stick.
Oh yay! I picked up Uncle Bill, drove 40 miles, turned left off of Highway 9 as soon as I saw the Saint Francis of Assisi statue and pulled in. Hmmm....not sure what significance the slightly crooked statue of the cavorting Roman goddess sporting a jar of wine holds, but THAT was the first sign that this day would be wackadoo.
We pulled into the house marked "Office" and I followed Uncle Bill. Upon entering the door, we were greeted by 4 snarling Min Pins snapping at his heels. At first I thought we entered the wrong door as it appeared we sauntered into a private residence. Nope! The Funeral Director, dressed in a plaid shirt and dirty overalls, greeted us.
After a pit stop involving VERY careful and purposeful non contact with the toilet seat (Thank GOODNESS for regular attendance at boot camp and those cursed forward and reverse squats), we were directed to the chapel located beyond the house/ dog funeral parlour / office / Min Pin asylum.
A chapel? Okay. Tiny, with a small glass kiosk welcoming the Williams Family for Mr. Mike's funeral at 1:00 p.m. Inside....an altar, stained glass windows and ummmmm, Mr Mike. Yeeeeek! Yeeeek stands for yikes and eeeek combined - totally appropriate to utter when you enter a chapel and see a dead dog in a casket with a blanket and a teddy. Okay, I admit it. I whipped out my phone and tweeted. Like a 16 yr old. I may have even typed OMG!
Honestly, I think the whole viewing tradition for humans is sort of Creepy McCreepster. But for dogs, it is even more weird. Still, out of respect for Uncle Bill, I managed to mask the horrific/incredulous/snarky look threatening to erupt over my normally expressive face. To Uncle Bill, this ritual is normal, important and necessary. Come to find out, every dog he's ever loved and lost in his 70+ years is buried here at the Min Pin Memorial Park.
After the viewing and proper goodbyes, we followed the Funeral Director in his golf cart up to Uncle Bill's private dog cemetery. There on row #24, which is marked on the sidewalk in red spray paint, we listened to the 15 second service conducted by the Min(pin)ister and then watched as they lowered the plastic casket containing the remains of Mr. Mike the girl Cocker Spaniel in the ground. And I cried. Well, because I did! It was a funeral after all.
I sat in the car while Uncle Bill met with the Funeral Director to pick out a proper headstone. Soon a text arrived from my little sister. Earlier in the day, she really, really got a kick out of my discomfort in the whole affair. Here is the text exchange between loving siblings:
Cheri: "Taps sounding for the 4 legged friend."
Susie: "This was sad, but also funny.....I feel bad for laughing. But seriously!
Cheri: "Just adding a little levity to this whole stinking situation.
Susie: "And that is a gift from Mom. She has a wackadoo sense of humor. That is a wonderful legacy."
That's it! That is why I spent the day as I did. Thanks, universe! This day was a reminder of my mom and her wonderful, slightly irreverent, wacky sense of humor. She HAD to have a slightly skewed sense of humor to endure five children, one dog, one raccoon, 4 cats and every stray kid who came to find refuge from their own crazy lives in her always open home. Of those, there were many.....
Oh, Mom. Over the years, we've endured some trouble when our snarky Hazelton selves laughed, mocked or grinned at solemn moments like weddings, grand poobah ceremonies, secret sorority initiations and now dog funerals. But for every person who found fault with this, there are 25 more who love us for it. Because life IS wacky, and we take ourselves way too seriously sometimes. There is always room for a little humor.
Thank you, Mama! I love you for the gift of laughter, a sense of the ridiculous and the teensy bit of smart ass you gave to all of us.
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