To Anyone Who Has Euthanized a Pet
Know that you did the right thing.
Later today, a wooden box with “Mr. Buddy” engraved on it will be delivered to my home, along with a plaster paw print and a copy of the “Rainbow Bridge” poem, which I will never read because it is too sad.
The delivery man from the pet cremation service will speak softly and ask me questions about Mr. Buddy in an attempt to make small talk.
Being asked about Mr. Buddy, of course, will make me cry. And my crying will make the delivery man feel bad.
But this is all a necessary part of the dance of the delivery of a dead pet. I mean, you can’t just show up at someone’s door and say, “Hi, here’s your dead cat.”
There’s a certain etiquette to the process.
Unfortunately, I am all too familiar with proper manners when delivering one’s cremated cat.
I will have been through receiving cat remains now five times in the past six years.
First, there was Miss April. She died from cancer.
Next came Miss Bunny. She also died from cancer.
Then, Mr. Joey surprised me one morning by having a stroke.
He was followed by Mr. Marcus, who died from cancer.
