I promise this is the last one...I think.

But I have to warn you. This might get to be a little...I don't know what...angry? Upset? I don't know really. Some of this in tongue-in-cheek but for the most part....I ache. You've been warned.

On Wednesday morning I get a call from someone named Josh who told me that Baby Girl's 'remains' were just delivered to our vet. Okay. Er. We were told it would take two weeks. It hasn't even been a week yet. This is still too damn fresh. I am NOT ready. *sigh*

Anyways. Now Pete has a vet appointment on Friday and Tobey could have picked Baby up the next day but I couldn't just leave Baby there overnight. Why did they use the word 'remains'. Yes, I know that is what it is - but it seemed so....morbid. He could have said Baby was ready to be picked up and I would have known what he meant. Needless to say I burst out in tears after I disconnected the call.

So after work I went to pick her up. I pepped myself up on the ride over to the clinic, planning on giving them the what-for about the Rimadyl and the wording on their sympathy card they sent. But when I got there all I could eek out was that I was there to pick up my dog. Baby Girl. I couldn't say 'remains'. I couldn't say much of anything.

The girl at the counter asks for my last name. Really? I thought to myself because our daughter worked at this clinic for almost 3 years - and you don't know my last name? That makes me oh so comforted by the sympathy card that arrived in the mail today. It had a hand written sentiment on the inside about how they will miss Baby and how she was a 'great pet' - bastards. She wasn't a pet. She was a member of our family! How dare they down grade her importance by just labeling her as a pet. Pets are gold fish. Pets are geckos. Pets aren't puppy dogs that used to sleep in your bed with you.

Then clerk brings this out to me:


Which reminds me of this bag since they are made of the same material:


Now. What the heck am I supposed to do with that blue bag? The one stamped with the Pet Crematorium Funeral Service logo. Do I tote my wine home in it from the grocery store? I was so not expecting a tote bag/gift bag. Heck. Tobey's brother sits inside a cardboard box. I'm sure he is in a nice box or urn inside that box but the delivery tool was a cardboard box and that is what I expected as well. Buttercup said I could give the bag to her and she could use it at Christmas...but who wants a present delivered in a pet funerial bag?



What really gets me was the tissue paper they put on the top of her 'remains' box. Boxy urn thing. Tissue paper. Like I was going to be all surprised when I lifted the tissue out to find Baby there. Oh, you shouldn't have - I always wanted one of these ______! Hey, wait a second! This isn't a pressie!

Once I got my gift bag to the car I sat there a good 15 minutes bawling my eyes out. In.Con.Sol.Able.



And if it couldn't get any better there was an envelope. With a nice Rainbow Bridge poem with Baby's name and date of death. Have I mentioned that I hate the Rainbow Bridge. Unlike Tobey I saw All Dogs Go To Heaven one too many times and I think our pets do go to Heaven and they aren't stuck outside the Pearly Gates waiting for our demise. So right now Baby is with Momma and if you think otherwise: shuttup. Buttercup brought up a good question about the Rainbow Bridge: what about pet fish? The bridge poem doesn't mention fish bowls - just meadows and hills. So what about pet fish?

And finally there was this. The Certificate of Private Cremation. Did I really need this? I think I know I paid for a private cremation already. I don't need a embossed raised sealed certificate (from the Congress of Pet Lives) telling me so. I don't need something telling me that they cremated her with respect and dignity. I sure as hell hope they did. And I most certainly didn't need anything telling me the exact day that they cremated her. Because like June from BBP stated on Facebook: April Obsess. So now I have added that cremation date to the rolodex of bad dates in my life. Thanks Pet Cremation People. Am I supposed to frame this certificate? I have no idea but I think if people have to spell out things (with respect and dignity) it means that they really weren't acting that way to begin with but here is this little piece of paper we typed up to make you think so.

They also included a web site address saying Baby was added to their online pet obituary. So I go there and the last updated obit was in 2008. Ohhhh, I am batting a thousand here.

Damn. I thought I could handle that picture.

And finally, finally: I am a puppy kisser. I kiss my pups, I let them kiss me back. Yeah I know they lick their butts - I don't care. Tobey is not a kisser nor a receiver of the puppy kiss. It is a wonder why we ever got married considering how much we have in common. So when one of the dogs licks something I say they are kissing it. Yeah. I know they are just trying to eat it but...

I put Baby's box down to take a picture of it and like all the other pictures Max wouldn't get out of the shot. He is so like Lindsey Lohan when it comes to things like this. And the moment I put the box down Max gave it a few kisses and it about slayed me. Does he know that is where his friend is at? Or does he know she is waiting for all of us at the ding dang Rainbow Bridge?

P.S. I had to go to Joann's after stopping at the vet. Since you can't leave your dog in your car in the hot Florida sun, I carried Baby in my purse. I sat my purse on the floor while I looked at patterns and then I realized even in death my Baby was still underfoot. So I have become the crazy pet woman carrying her dead dog around in her purse while she was out shopping. Oh. And some woman really bumped into me hard on the bead aisle and I dang near told her she just hit my dog - but I didn't think she would understand. ;)

~ame

on Saturday, July 30, 2011

Labels: pets