What to do when Rover dies has always been a problem for us pet lovers.
My dear friend and esteemed colleague Dr. Winfred Moore loves to tell the story about the Baptist pastor whose busy day was interrupted by a phone call from a distressed father who lived not far from his church.
“Our family’s poodle died this morning, Pastor. We were wondering if you could come and speak a few words beside the grave while we bury her.”
“Humphh!” the harried pastor snorted. “That would be quite impossible.”
“Well, I’m sorry you can’t come,” lamented the father. “We intended to donate $500 to your church for your assistance.”
“Really?” the pastor repented. “Why didn’t you tell me your poodle was a Baptist?”
One of my favorite writers, Greg Cummings, tells a shaggy dog story which he labels a likely urban legend.
The rural tradition of burying Rover in the petunia patch
out back won’t work in a concrete canyon like
According to Greg’s unverified tale, city authorities there
offer to dispose of dead Rover for just 50 bucks. Which in
But one urban entrepreneur sees it as a real opportunity. “I will take care of your pet’s carcass for only $25,” she advertises. Half price. And she still makes a hefty profit.
How? When a customer calls to report Rover’s demise, this ambitious lady hustles down to the Salvation Army thrift store and buys a well-used suitcase for two or three dollars.
With Rover resting peacefully inside her newly acquired luggage, this clever lady boards a subway train to the seamier side of town, sets down her suitcase, and pretends to be distracted.
So far, according to the tale, the subway thieves have not let her down.
Christian pet lovers have agonized for ages about the fate of their beloved animals after death. “Will Rover be with me in heaven?” they want to know.
The most crucial question is whether you’ll be there if he makes it.