RIP Lucky Bich, Pootie, and Tiny Tiger McVeigh


Let’s talk about dogs. Let me get this straight: you want me to volunteer to pay money to take care of a creature that is totally helpless, but unlike a baby, never gets smarter? You want me to get up early in the morning, race home from work, and leave social occasions early to walk with it? Even when it’s 20 below? And if I don’t, it will crap all over my house? It will also leave its hair and stench all over? And one of the benefits is that this thing will jump on me and lick me on my face? Ok. I have no choice but to accept that the majority of people find pleasure in this.

That said, can we agree that pet cemeteries are weird?

"Leaf bags OK"

"Leaf bags OK"

If you have seen “Gates of Heaven,” you will certainly agree. If you haven’t seen it, stop reading this, turn off your computer, go to a video store, rent “Gates of Heaven,” return home, and watch it.

Finished? Ok, let’s proceed.

I pulled off SD-37 (or was it US-14?) in South Dakota yesterday to take a look at the Huron Girl Scout’s Pet Haven Cemetery. Here are some highlights:



Tiny Tiger McVeigh has been dealt a doubly harsh hand by the gods of nomenclature.


Finally, a bad omen for the White Sox:


6 responses to “RIP Lucky Bich, Pootie, and Tiny Tiger McVeigh

  1. You are a monster.

  2. At least you held back from admitting you would eat dog if it were on the menu in a restaurant.

    Yes, pet cemeteries are weird. When the cat dies, I’m totally keeping him in an urn on my mantle.

  3. What I especially like is the fact that you felt the urge to pull off at the Pet Haven Cemetery. THIS is traveling!

  4. going to give you the benefit of the doubt that poor willy’s grave was like that before you got there…

  5. Your dog-eating desires made it into my subconscious. I had a dream the other night that my aunt served a tiny LIVE elephant at a huge banquet dinner but then it turned out to be a LIVE DOG dressed up to look like an elephant. I screamed but everyone else was into it and chowing down.

  6. Wonder how many headstones (pawstones?) there would be at your childhood home if your local Undertaker of Pets and Assorted Deceased Local Wildlife had thought to post them?!?

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