Daddy is finally home from Africa and boy are we glad! He’s really wiped out and went to bed at 6:30 tonight – but hey, we made it to church this morning which I wasn’t sure about.
The question of the day around our house is “When do we get the box?”
This would be the box with the ashes of our dog who died on Friday.
When I told the kids that Snickers had died, one of their first questions is what happens to her next. Noah wanted to bury her in the backyard so I had to explain that it was against the law to do that.
“So what do they do with her?” he asked.
(And yes, I know there are pet cemeteries but I’m not about to pay upwards of $500 on a burial for a dog…as much as I loved her.)
So, in my “honesty is the best policy” mode I said “They cremate her.”
“What’s that mean?”
How exactly do you explain cremation to an 8 year old and 5 year old that doesn’t make it sound horrific? Because really “They stick her in a big fire and it burns until she turns to ashes” is just awful sounding. Somehow I managed to make it sound slightly better than that but they were still horrified by the idea.
It was then that I took a deep breath, pushed aside my “financial peace angel” (you know the one that sits on my shoulder and tells me not to overnight my adoption papers), and said “We can have them put Snickers ashes in a box and then we can bury the box underneath the big tree in Pa and MeeMaw’s backyard.”
That seemed to console them somewhat.
It was an extra $130 to have the remains returned to us in a simple box, but if it gives the kids some sort of closure than I think it’s worth it. I thought we could make a little memorial stone to mark the spot where we bury the box.
So the vet’s office will call us when THE BOX is ready for pickup. Not sure when that will be.
…here’s a picture from the vault – this is about 10 years old…in her spry days.