My Dog Is In a Box In The Garage

Cat people are absolutely bat shit crazy.

Keeping my dog’s ashes in a box in the garage for ten years because I can’t bear to part with them makes perfect sense.

At least they’re not in a pink tin tea pot on a shelf above my stove, where my friend, a bat shit crazy cat person, keeps Mittens, a Hemingway cat that I swear I have tasted in my Earl Grey on certain visits to her house.

I used to keep my dog in the tire well of my trunk. That’s where they put him when I picked up the box from the vet and for a couple of years I just left him there. I figured it was ok because he loved to go for car rides.

He was a good ole dog. Even though he “allegedly” bit the mail man the day I brought him home from the pound, I kept him anyway. I was already in love.

Even though he had seizures that required twice daily meds; even though he never bit the boyfriend that was pilfering the doggy Phenobarbital, I kept him anyway.

And even now nearly twelve years after he died, I still have dreams that he is alive. Usually I wake up feeling really bad because I haven’t walked him in twelve years and then I realize it was just a dream.

My sister adopted my cat, my dog’s little brother, before I moved to Florida. So I was not there when he died. She took good care of him till the end, but she is the practical sort, still bat shit crazy, but not a keeper of animal ashes.

My husband and I plan on getting a dog one day, but can’t work it out just yet; travel, jobs etc. I’ve thought about another cat but my husband only likes them in his General Tso’s not in his house. But maybe this little video will change his mind.

Can’t you just picture these little darlings in a teapot one day?



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