A post-script to the life and death of our beloved "Frisco" means letting you all know how HEALING it was us, to go to Christine Hunsaker's "Paws, Whiskers and Wags" Pet Crematory, located in Decatur.
The lavendar candles lit for calm, the large sitting area where we got to visit with our beloved--one last time-- before cremation, and the fact that we were able to stay during the process, was very reassuring.As is the patented device offered by this facility--an "id" bracelet which is numbered for your companion animal--the stainless steel is impervious to the cremation process, and so you are guaranteed that the remains are YOUR pet's, ALONE-- and no one else's.
We sat inside for a while, and I thought about the tiny bits of fur I'd secretly snipped from her, on Tuesday night, after she'd passed. I hadn't mentioned it to my honey, Hansoo, fearing I would look crazy.To my amazement, just before we released her to the technician, a pair of scissors with a small baggie was handed to me.Tearfully, I asked,"You mean?"
"Some people like to cut some fur, sometimes, from where they would pet them, on their head right behind there..."
the attendant gestured, as her voice trailed off...
"I did cut a bit of fur from there, last night; I thought I was crazy, but I would like a bit more..."
So I gently cut a few bits of Frisco's gorgeous white fur. I always thought it looked like rabbit-fur.Like those jackets many of us, back in the 1980's-- used to wear.I thought how fortunate she never lived in China(where dogs' fur is prized, but dogs' lives, unfortunately, are not.).
I snipped, and then looking at her markings of brown, the technician said"Would you like more brown?" And I said "Yes." And I snipped until I had a little bag of fur.
Hansoo and I spent the next hour and a half discussing our love of dogs with Amy, a lovely, kind young woman, an employee whose job it is apparently to offer comfort. She hugged me numerous times as I broke down discussing our love for our girl, "Frisco".
Hansoo and I read a few newspaper articles posted at the facility, which described Christine Hunsaker, the owner, as a true animal-lover and a person who wanted to make a difference in the business of helping other bereaved "parents" of companion animals.
We met that owner, moments later, and we watched as she oversaw the entire process.
Hansoo and I looked at the choice of urns--all were gorgeous, but I wanted a simple container, something we could place a picture of her, in.
She was returned to us, her remains now sealed in a clear bag, looking like crushed shells, pearly, jewel-like.Dry, cold, white.
A bit scary, but pure. And true.
We decided on a medium sized mahogany box, a "Howard Miller". (our Grandfather clock is his design).
It turned out to be a gorgeous choice of color, given "Frisco's" own reddish-brown coloring...
Hansoo placed a picture of her in the space for just that, once we returned home. Big amber eyes are looking out at us, from the cover of the box.Inside, on top--a poem written for our sweet girl, (provided by "Paws, Whiskers, and Wags"), and underneath the inside cover, her ashes--still sealed in the bag--along with her red collar and heart-i.d.-tag, which Hansoo lovingly placed there.
"Louie" misses "Frisco".He still sniffs her sofa every day. He wags his tail. Looks around. And he jumps on her sofa often, to lie there.
I think he's keeping it warm for her.
Maybe he thinks she's coming home.
I feel like she already has.