Jeanne sent me an email with a blog post about a pet cemetery in the UK dating back almost a century: http://spitalfieldslife.com/2018/03/18/at-the-pet-cemetery/. Maybe because I’ve lost so many cats so dear to me over the past few years, but it really struck home. I rarely get an emotional reaction when I visit human cemeteries, but by golly, a click to that blog did the job.
For those who have read this blog for several years, but don’t recall their demise, Shiva the cow cat died while we were with Jeanne back when I was trying to finish dying on her couch in Olathe. She’s buried in the backyard of the house where she first arrived in Kansas and had her litter of kittens.
A couple of good cats just vanished from my life this century. There was Mehitabel #3, whom I eventually found the hairy tufts of at the base of a telephone pole in Grants, New Mexico, where eagles often perched. And:
MIA – Permanent Mouse Patrol – Niaid
Andrews, Texas, December 2013, when I was going through my diagnostic challenges with the VA in Odessa and Big Spring…. I suppose that was the most difficult aside from Hydrox, and the fact she’s in some anonymous grave in the sorriest part of Texas anyone’s likely to find anywhere probably suffices. During those times I thought I might join her at any moment.
So I’m inclined to think those pet cemeteries, though mawkish, are something of a plus. If we’re lucky we’ll have a lot of animalcules to share parts of our lives, and over the decades we’ll endure the consequence of their lives being so much shorter than humans. Knowing they’re lying in some prepared spot where we can visit them if we wish, shed a few tears, and say a few more goodbyes seems worthy of them.