An old friend of mine from junior high school and I have a long-standing joke between us. Like me and S.B. she and her husband are child-free but dog-loaded.
The joke is this: when we die and some stranger from the bank enters our homes to hold an estate sale ('cause, you know, we have no children upon whom to foist, uh, pass along all our stuff), they will find a mantel filled not with family photos, but with the urns containing the ashes of our various dogs.
Of course, we could always put it in our final wills and testaments that the urns and their contents be disposed of prior to said official from the bank coming in to assess our stuff, but I think it would be much more fun to just leave them intact and present. Little testaments to our Cloud Cuckoo Land tendencies to collect not only shoes and expensive kitchen gadgetry, but also the remains of our beloved pets.
With the cool amusement of the newly departed, we will observe from on high as said officials (and perhaps the few friends and family left to us) wind themselves into knots of worry and guilt about what to do with not only our dearly departed selves, but with the half dozen others as well. Naturally, we will have no say in the matter as we have happily moved on to an eternity sipping margaritas and reading crap celebrity gossip magazines while Antonio Banderas and Gerard Butler administer our pedicures.
Presently, we're getting a good start on our collections.
This here is our good buddy, Beaux.
Dearly departed from doggie bloat last July. We miss him terribly. He was a big dog in body, a bouncing baby puppy in spirit. He loved everyone and everything, especially his ball and S.B. He would have given his life for that man, I swear. My favorite memory of Beaux is taking him to the Pecos one summer for a long hike through the wilderness, complete with ball playing sessions in a beaver pond. On the way home, we stopped at a Dairy Queen and I bought Beaux a big ol' soft serve ice cream cone. The expression on his face when he realized that he wasn't just getting a taste or two, but the whole cone!, and I was going to hold it for him while he licked away! was one of pure unadulterated joy. That was the happiest moment I've ever shared with a dog.
At any rate, I think Beaux's inhabiting quite a tasteful little urn, don't you think? We currently have him tucked into one of the two nichoes that flank the kiva fireplace in our bedroom. Nichoes (I guess the rest of the country would call them "nooks") are just one of the many unique design elements that distinguish our region's particular architecture. They certainly come in handy at times like this.
So, I picked JoJo up on Friday evening, anticipating a matching urn to balance out the space in the nicho at the other side of the fireplace, but no. What I got instead was something more in keeping with a Montana hunting lodge.
Now, I appreciate the care and thought Best Friends Pet Cemetery obviously puts into their work, finding unique and attractive containers to house the remains of their clients' beloved pets. And while this cedar box is certainly very pretty, it just doesn't say "JoJo" to me . No, girlfriend had much more flair than that.
So in keeping with her unique personal style, I do believe I'm just going to have to create for her a shrine that encompasses not only her remains, but also some flowers, Mardi Gras beads, my mom's funeral rosary, and Black Jesus brought in from the guest bathroom. Black Jesus doesn't get out much, so he may appreciate the company.
We certainly spent a lot of time worshiping JoJo while she was alive. I think it only fitting we pay her the same tribute in death.