Life in the Garden

Matters of Life and Death

Pets

Neighborhood Garden Memorials

When we stroll through the garden, we’ll stop and pay tribute to the makeshift memorials we find. At the elementary school is a marker dedicated to a school employee who died suddenly. A tree has been planted in his memory. Simple.

Sometimes planting a tree in your loved one’s memory can give the family a place to return to honor the loved one. Tree plantings can be marked with a tree dedication stone personalized with artwork and the departed’s name and dates

At the high school nearby there’s this simple roadside memorial.

A more elaborate memorial is tucked in a quiet corner of a nearby bed and breakfast.

Memorial stepping stones, memorial garden plaques, as well as a statuary or garden memorial sculpture are other ideal ways to memorialize your loved one if you are limited in space because these items can represent your loved ones’ personality. Garden stones and garden benches can be used indoors or out, and are all loving touches in your sacred space.

Regardless of the memorial garden that you choose best represents your passed loved one, memorials can be used to heal, restore, and remember the time and life that your loved one spent on Earth.

Today’s tip for better living: Get your hands dirty!

Random Linkage

It’s been a week in the garden. Busy moving, proving my identity, and dealing with rigid rule enforcers.

We are customer service connoisseurs and when the service is lacking we’re all over it. Had several instances this week, but the prize goes to the Storage Nazi.

Storage Nazi and her spouse are two vile robots that run a large complex and I’m sure they have their trials. They spew the RULES “CUZ THEY DON’T WANT ANYTHANG TORE UP!” Their rudeness is appalling and embarrassing. Most times, I try to be respectful and hold my tongue, but earlier this week they tested my patience.

Let’s move on.

Last week we wrote about customers that want to be buried with their pets. Today, we spoke to a lady who was putting her pup down and wanted her pet to be interred with her. She bought one of Terry Bloodworth’s beautiful blown glass pet urns.

Wow, Alex McIlveen really is my hero, not only did he kick a jihadi in the balls, his good name drove a lot of traffic to this blog! Who knew?

And speaking of jihad, In Repose had an interesting post on the Flight 93 memorial design proposal.

I’ve had my head in the sand lately, and haven’t been following the news, elevated fear and loathing factor every time I turn it on.

Speaking of sand and RULES, I found this interesting post on Secret Dubai Diary regarding freedom of speech.

America is indeed the land of the free: free (or practically free) communications. The sweet ease of being able to access Skype.com and videochat with friends and family overseas without having hordes of angry TRA officials banging on ones window waving camel whips.

The sheer delight of being able to make a two minute international phone call that don’t cost more than a labourer’s annual pay packet.

And the general joy of being able to access any website at any time at a speed light years faster than a lame carrier pigeon ferrying 1s and 0s back and forth from ones computer to Etishite.

So while America may have a president so unpopular that one can currently buy a calendar in Borders to count the days until he leaves office, at least people have the freedom to express their loathing and the communications to convey it.

Whereas in the sandlands, according to the UAE Publications Law Chapter 7 Article 76, it is actually forbidden to “blemish” the president of any “friendly state”. Which means that as the US is a UAE ally, we may only express loving praise for George W Bush and the wonderful progress he has made in Iraq and for world security in general.

So perhaps it really is the United American Emirates after all.

Another story of interest is the execution of China’s Head of Food and Drug Administration.

Dozens of people have died in China because of poor quality or fake food and drugs, sparking widespread international fears about the safety of Chinese exports.

Thirteen babies died of malnutrition in 2005 after being fed powdered milk that had no nutritional value.

US inspectors have blamed exported Chinese pet food ingredients, contaminated with melamine, for the deaths of cats and dogs in North America.

And they recently halted shipments of toothpaste from China to investigate reports that they may be contaminated with toxic chemicals.

Cardboard bun anyone?

Like the Son He Never Had

Florida passed a piece of legislation that allows humans to be buried with their pets. Previously, funeral homes were prohibited from handling animal remains and ashes of humans and animals could not be co-mingled.

At the Best Friends Animal Hospital at Gateway, office manager, Rainy Hoy, said about half of their clients take home their pet’s ashes. “They just want to keep them. They’re like family to them,” Hoy said.

Fort Myers resident Joe Castrogiovanni wouldn’t consider euthanizing his 2-year-old dog Barkley to put him in the casket, but he would consider saving Barkley’s ashes.

“It may be a little weird, but he’s like the son I never had,” Castrogiovanni said.

Jay O’Shaughnessy, funeral director for Anderson Funeral Home of Fort Myers with more than 30 years’ experience, said he has received requests from clients wanting their loved ones to be buried with remains of their pet.

“It’s not a real new deal. We’ve done stranger things than that,” he said. “It’s always the family’s idea.” Complete article here.

He’s right, it’s not unusual. Urngarden has received several requests for urns large enough to contain the pet owner and the ashes of their cats or dogs. Or couples that have left instructions for their children to bury their ashes in the back yard with the family pets.

We had a dog, dear Bonnie, that I always thought I’d have taxidermied so we could enjoy her to the end. She died on a camping trip and had to be buried on the spot. Looking back, I’m glad we didn’t have the opportunity to get her stuffed!

Now, my two precious pups I’ll probably sprinkle somewhere, or maybe I’ll save their ashes to be packed into a mortar shell with me!

Refreshments, Anyone?

Last week was a sad week for pet owners, we had several calls from distraught clients who were dealing with the loss of an old friend. When we took our advisory team to visit the vet, there was an older couple getting ready to put down their pup after 14 years together. Seems everyone has a sad dog story, including yours truly…but not today.

We worked out a lot of frustration weeding and harvesting rocks. The big rocks are trophies and I collect them and give them a place of honor. “Shovel Buster” is my latest acquisition and is on display now.

Moved across town and helped Granny get her beds cleaned up. She’s my inspiration for this site (and in life), she started small memory gardens after the loss of her husband and son. She liked a military theme, after all that was how they had spent most of their life. Her husband, my grandfather was a complicated man and they spent over 50 years together. Several years after he died she said the only thing she needed a man for now was to run a chain saw.

She always makes me feel better and I often think about her as a young woman with four kids, with a man off to war, and years of moving a household coast to coast. I don’t know if I could handle it.

During the last years of his life, my grandfather would mix a few Manhattans , turn on the tape recorder and lay down his memoirs. I’m glad he did. Here’s an excerpt of a WWII experience when he was a 20 something Okie in the Coral Sea on the Yorktown:

“Our dive bombers scored a total of only two 1000 bomb hits but they were devastating. The Shokaku broke immediately in fire from stem to stern and from water line to the forepeak. They had ignited her aircraft fuel lines on the hanger deck. Wow-what a fire!

Then it was our turn. We had a good view of the Shokaku because she was afire and smoking heavily. We had only two enemy fighters attack us but our escorting fighters took care of them. The only thing wrong was that we were still dropping Mark Thirteen torpedoes and they ran, true to form, either too deep or they broached, and those that hit the ship simply bounced off as duds.

The Lexington planes didn’t fare too much better. They got one bomb hit on the Shokaki but, because of the stinko weather, they mostly got lost and milled around until it was time to return to base.

Meanwhile, our “bases” were catching it from the Japs, those Japanese torpedo and dive bombers were so much faster than ours that our fighters were amazed! For instance- their torpedo planes came in at a speed of 180 knots with torpedos attached…Our TBD aircraft were limited to about 120 knots with a fish attached.

The Yorktown took a bomb hit just aft of the super structure- right near elevator two. It went clear to the fifth deck (the armored deck) and exploded. It killed forty-one members of the Repair Crew Fire who were located in the Ship’s Service Compartment on the third deck. A lot more of those guys died later in sick bay.

When we arrived back at the Yorktown I couldn’t see much damage to her because all the damage was below decks. The bomb hit left nothing but about a ten inch hole in the flight deck where it went through.

The Skipper of the Yorktown- Captain Elliot Buckmaster ordered the flight crews below to the ready room where they dispensed a shot of whiskey to all of us. Actually, it would have taken a lot more than one shot to assuage my feeling that evening. I was plumb shook from the day’s actions and tired as hell.

The next announcement was that the ships cooks were serving sandwiches in the crew’s mess, below.

Now, the crew’s mess hall was right next to the sick bay, and one had to go through the passageway outside sick bay to get to the mess hall. The salvage and repair crews had stacked all of the dismembered and unidentified parts of human bodies from Repair Five in that passageway like a big stack of hay….Then, too, the water from fighting fires was sloshing back and forth across the deck- about four inches deep. Of course it was mostly blood from the pile of arms, legs, torsos, intestines, etc. in that stack. Then, there was the smell of butchered flesh. It smelled just like a slaughter house smells. To say the least- by the time I saw and smelled all of that, I sure as hell didn’t want a sandwich. In fact, I don’t remember being too hungry for several days after that. All night long, that night I could hear the funeral prayers being said and the sound of the bodies being ceremoniously dumped over the side in to the sea as their last resting place.”

Today’s tat, selected for the bleeding hearts we spotted coming up:

Your tip for better living: Be a superhero.