A Different Approach

Is it always human deaths that are the cause of sorrow? Beloved pets are sometimes mourned as deeply, they too leaving an emptiness hard to fathom. A childhood playmate, a constant companion, a faithful friend, pets become a part of our lives, asking for nothing but food, shelter and love. As they pass away, most certainly a tremendous void can be left.

Our beloved Fred the Dog, passed away as he approached, by human standards, his teenage years. Truly an "old man", crippled by arthritis, many stomach ailments, failing eyesight and numerous other afflictions of old age, Fred's quality of life, long gone, yet in our hearts and mind, a distant happy memory. He was our boy, the happy go lucky puppy, a beloved family member, whose passing tore at our heart strings and left an emptiness in our lives. We vowed, "no more pets, this is much too hard!". We have been true to our vow, yet freely talk of our fun times and fantastic memories of Fred the Dog.

It is only now we joke of our children's first pets. The good Lord put gold fish on this earth for a reason. It can teach a child responsibility. Having a living thing in your bedroom, staring at you through the lens of a fishbowl, can either bring companionship, or in the case of a young child living in fear of monsters in the dark, that google-eyed orange monster, can create midnight paranoia in the most stable of households. It is no wonder, their deaths are easily accepted, a quick flush and burial at sea is completed.

The local funeral home was located across the street from our residence, affording the kids a front row seat of just what "calling hours" entailed. As youngsters having to stay within the boundaries of their own yard, peeking through the fence, they watched the solemn procession of families and friends of the deceased. Questions almost always arose: " Mommy what is in that big box they just took out of that long black car?" "Mommy, why are people crying and why so sad?" Answering these questions, not wanting them to be traumatized in their thoughts and understanding of death, was a challenge.

Yet they understood more than I gave them credit for. True to form, their deceased goldfish's final resting place was not a quick flush, but a proper burial, with miniature casket and final farewell prayer, in the "backyard cemetery." At one point, funeral home processions became their obsession! One weekend jaunt to Gramma's house required carrying one's suitcase as though there were a corpse in it, much to the dismay of the old ladies in the neighborhood. Those sweet young children, that always visited and listened to those older ladies gossiping their afternoons away, we're suddenly viewed as evil, disrespectful and rude, although never a mean word was uttered! They must of all been related In some way, shape or form, to my great aunt, "the casket thrower!"

But my kids will always be just that, my kids.  They fondly talk of their former pets with love and happiness, death at the time was heart-wrenching, yet with each year that passes, the long ago emotions have mellowed, their bitterness waning and evolving into precious and comforting memories.