Funeral For a Friend (feel good story)

OK. This is a somewhat sad story, but it is also a happy one, about the love of a pet and the understanding and compassion of practical strangers. A client of mine has three small dogs, who have access to a fenced in back yard with a doggie door. The fence is in the lengthy process of being replaced. About two weeks ago, one of the dogs, a Jack Russell named Zoey, had escaped the yard. The humans were frantic to get her back. She is a senior, with bad hearing, and a touch of dementia. They called the police. They called the local shelter. They notified the neighbors. They warned me that when i went to my regular morning job to feed and walk their dogs, that Zoey would not be there. It was a Wednesday night when Zoey went missing, and the shelter doesn't open until 2pm on Thursdays, so the human would follow up with the shelter then. I guess Human forgot I have done A LOT of volunteer work at the shelter, and I knew people there. I knew things. After my morning visit with the remaining two dogs, I headed over to the shelter to inquire about "Little Z," and sure enough, she was there! Long story short, I sprung "Little Z" out of there and brought her home.

[Que Thin Lizzy's "Jailbreak"] Fast forward a week, it's a Tuesday, when i usually get a breakfast and dinner visit with the dogs. I leave at 5pm, and at 8pm i get the call. "Where is Zoey?" "Oh Fuck! NOT AGAIN?!!" For several days, we search the property, we search the neighborhood. We enlist the mail carrier, the UPS and Fed Ex guys, the neighbors, to keep an eye out. The police and shelter have been notified. It's all over FaceBook. In the back of my head, I am hoping the recent sightings of coyotes didn't get to her. I am hoping she didn't get hit by a car. I am hoping someone didn't take her in and decide to keep her. Nah, coyotes would have left a sign. Some blood perhaps. A clump of fur. She was micro-chipped, and if she had been picked up, or rushed to a vet, they would automatically look for that, and notify the humans. No one would keep her. Not for long. She peed in the house. On wee-wee pads of course, but would they know that?

Little Z! Come home! Humans miss you! Thursday night I created fliers to post around the neighborhood. I printed them up, and Friday morning, I delivered them to the house, for the humans to post. As I approached the house, the workmen who were installing the fence came up to me. In broken English, they kept saying "The dog! the dog!" They found the dog. Dead. It had been raining the past few days, and Little Z was soaking wet. They had placed her in a black garbage bag, and she was laying outside, by the side of the garage. After I identified her, I asked where she was found, and they pointed to the corner of the property, where the grass is overgrown. While both the humans and I (who, BTW, is also human) had checked the perimeter of the property, none of us bothered to check behind the tree that was almost against the fence. Sometimes pets want to go off on their own to die. Zoey was very old. Just how old, we don't know. She was a rescue with a questionable past, that had come into the household bonded with another senior dog, who had passed the year before. Zoey was old, and confused in her old age. We believe it was just her time, and she went off to die on her own terms. OK, Zoey in a bag. Please leave her in the garage, for the humans to see and do with her as they please, when they get home. As I left the house, the fence guy said in hist thick accent, "I make nice. I make nice." In the evening, when the humans returned, they found Zoey, carefully and lovingly laid out for her final viewing. She was carefully placed in a makeshift casket, made out of a cardboard box. The black bag that had previously protected her from the elements and hid her lifeless body, was now draped over her like a blanket, exposing only her head. She looked like she was peacefully sleeping, perhaps dreaming of romping with her bonded sister. The edges of the "casket" were lined with flowers, and a crucifix, made out of some sticks found in the yard, was attached to the head of the box. The workers had dug a hole, a good five feet deep, on the other side of the property. With pieces of wood, perhaps from the fence they were replacing, they again crafted a crucifix, which served as a marker. They did a beautiful job preparing Zoey for the next part of her journey. Off and running with her sister. RIP Little Z!