My canary Groc got put in the trash. The thiefs who strangled him weren’t, sadly :mad:
Just went through this same situation with our 18-year-old cat Minny. In fact, it was just three days ago, and I am still rather raw from it. Kidney failure, not able to walk or even stand, incontinent and lethargic, and it all happened within a day and a half.
Anyway, I did stay with her while she was euthanized, and the vet cried along with me as Minny left. I’ll be getting her ashes and plan to use them to fertilize a shrub which we will plant in her memory–something pretty like she was, with a good view of the bird feeder, which she spent many hours observing through the window.
My answer is other.
My last deceased pet was a horse who had to be euthanized at the veterinary hospital run by Virginia Tech Vet School. When the attending vet asked me what I wanted done with her remains, I responded through my tears with “1-800-Dead-Cow is fine”. Not being a long term local, he looked at me with shock and concern, perhaps contemplating the need to give me a dose of horse tranq. Realizing that his expression had changed from sympathy to concern with side of confusion, I told him that 1-800-Dead-Cow is the phone number for the local rendering plant, Valley Protein. I also offered that they could use her for any teaching needs that my mare could meet. They must have used her because I never got the bill for the disposal.
When Annie, our cat, died last fall, I had her cremated privately, and I asked that the ashes be returned to me. I have them, and soon, I’ll send them to my ex, who now lives in Ontario. She will scatter them at the farm where Annie was born.
Annie was born in a barn on a friend’s farm in Ontario. When my ex and I moved out here to Alberta, Annie came along, in her carrier in the cargo hold of an aircraft. My ex and I may have had our differences, but we never disagreed on our cats. So when I spoke with my ex about Annie’s passing, we agreed that it would be best to return Annie to where she originally came from. This way, my ex (who regretted not being here when Annie was euthanized) could participate in helping send Annie to her rest.
So, now that it is springtime, I will send Annie’s ashes to my ex; and she will take them to the farm and scatter them. The snow is gone, and Annie’s ashes will help nourish the land.
My much beloved Magpie cat was buried in my parent’s garden since I was moving too often. He’d stayed there for a while previously for a few months while mum had meningitis and I was helping out. We knew he had a favourite bush there and buried him under it.
Later they removed that bush and I have a hedge from its cuttings in my current garden.
Since then, we’ve take one goldfish to the vet for humane disposal, buried two more goldfish in the front garden and the last one (who was only with us a couple of weeks) was unceremoniously wrapped in kitchen paper and dumped in the rubbish bin.
Freeze-drying was our choice when our Keeshond, Barkley, died a couple of years ago. (But not the company linked to.) I thought it was a little strange, and pricy, but my wife and kids really wanted it. Barkley is now sitting in our living room, by the fireplace, perpetually looking up happily at us; the taxidermist did a really nice job. You get used to it and it’s quite the conversation piece.
Okay, I’ve been tossing this back and forth in my brain for the last couple of hours, and I have to say that to me this is just plain creepy, at least going by the photos on the linked website. I don’t know how one gets used to it any more than Norman Bates’ mother at the dinner table.
Just a quick note – I have to get to work. The photos on that website look creepy to me to. Here’s Barkley. At first I kept expecting him to jump up to play.
My wife has quite the collection of incinerated critters. If left to myself, I’d just bury them instead.
I’m not sure what to think about that, except that you just won the thread. Fascinating.
The vet took the remains of our most recent cat.
Back when I was in college, the family cat (who I had had since the 4th grade) died. My mother figured I’d want to be there for the cat-funeral and so she kept the body in the freezer for two weeks. I think it was wrapped in a plastic bag.
Buried our pet cat deep up at our family cottage, with her favourite blanket and toys. Every year, I burn a little pile of catnip on her grave, just because.
OK, work is over, I have a long weekend ahead, and time for a longer explanation of why we had Barkley taxidermied. (Freeze-dried, though that sounds strange, not stuffed. I can explain that, too, if anyone’s interested.) Barkley was much loved, our oldest son’s first real pet. Like all Keeshonds, he loved people, to a fault, was good with kids, never aggressive. The worst he would do is lick you to death. Barkley died too young of kidney failure. This took several months after the problem was first spotted, long months of trying our best to mitigate the problem with medicine and diet, but his health declined steadily. Of course, we watched closely to see if he was suffering but, if he ever did, he never showed it; he was a trouper. Finally, he died one night in my wife’s arms.
We didn’t want our lasting memories of him to be of those agonizing last months. Having him preserved, posed with his usual smile on his face, perhaps about to jump up, helped push back the memories of the bad times and bring forward the good memories again. It was therapy, really, and it did help.
Let’s just hope he doesn’t get wet.
Topologist, I want to thank you for your post about Barkley. Keeshonden are lovely dogs; my parents had several thru the years, the last being Gypsy. She was officially my dad’s dog, but in actuality, I spent more time with her, grooming, training, and showing her. They are one of the most loving breeds around. I had not thought about Gypsy in some time, but after reading your post last night, when I went to bed, I dreamed about her. In the dream, we had gone to an obedience trial-Gyp was the BEST obedience dog I ever trained, once scoring an almost perfect 198 points out of possible 200. She greeted me so joyfully in the dream, grabbing the leash in her mouth and shaking it, just like she did in real life, and giving me that famous Keeshond smile.
I woke this morning feeling as if I had been gifted with a brief bit of time with a dog I loved dearly, so again, I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart.
I had my Cap’n individually cremated and his ashes were returned to me in a nice little wooden urn/box. They rest on the mantel and over a year later, I still say hello to him.
We won’t bury him here because we know it’s not the last house we’ll live in.
People may find it weird, but I can’t bring myself to bury the ashes here.
As a kid, we buried about three dogs in pine boxes in our backyard.
My daughter’s gerbil was put in a box and buried as was a bird she had.
The fish are either flushed or wrapped in newspaper and put in the trash because they are too big to flush.
My goldfish died on Monday 
I had to bury him because given he was a long as my hand he was too big to give the final flush.
Update: my beagle Nelly passed away, so now she has been cremated, and put on the shelf till October. Then I’ll pour her ashes into the creek, so she can finally migrate to the sea like she kept trying to do.
Buried in the garden near the back door.
Guess where the building engineer decided to take a core sample a few weeks ago while we were out.
My dear little dog died at the vets, she packed him in a cardboard box with ice packs and we buried him up on my land the next day, he didn’t make it to move in. I planted a bougainvillaea on top of him.
More recently a foster dog I had also died and I buried him in the garden too, he’s now got a dwarf yellow coconut on top.
My childhood cat, many years ago, was buried in our “animal patch” in the garden graveyard for various animals, wrapped in the neighbours cardigan. He was a bit of a local celebrity.