Many people who buy urns for their pets tell her, “These are going in my casket with me when I die.”
This is quite a change because in the past many people just left deceased pets with a veterinarian, says Joe Pavone, owner of Paws Awhile Pet Memorial Park in Richfield, Ohio. But now, people want to participate in the final disposal of their pet.
“They want to be a part of it as a way to say goodbye, put that final touch and give back a little of the love and attention that the dog gave to them,” Pavone says.
Not every pet will make its owner want to spend money for a burial, but for those that do, the pet cemeteries offer their services. Pavone says sometimes pet owners tell him, “This one dog stole my heart.”
The emotional attachment and then loss of a pet can often mirror the loss of a family member.
Pamela Farer-Singleton, chief psychologist at Kent State University Health Services, says burying a pet can give a person a sense of closure, depending on what a person feels would be an honorable memorial for his or her animal.
“Some people choose to visit their pets. Others don’t. (It’s) the same way a human might choose to visit the gravesite of a loved one,” she says. “It may be their way to remember or pay homage to the life or the relationship they endured.”
Burying a pet can help a person reach closure, she says, and many of the feelings people suffer are the same whether they have lost a pet or a loved person, she says.
“This is particularly true when someone has been very close to their pet,” Farer-Singleton says.
Some people are close to their pets because they work with them. Several police dogs have been buried in his cemetery, Pavone says.
“They are considered a police officer, so they have a big funeral with bagpipes,” says Erin Heintel, an employee at Paws Awhile Pet Memorial Park.
A funeral for an Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation dog included a seven-gun salute and the folding of a flag, Pavone says.
After the funeral, many pet owners are concerned whether their animal will ever be moved.
Pavone says the Ohio Revised Code that went into effect in 1986 establishes guidelines for running a pet cemetery. A person must own a minimum of three acres, restrict it so the land cannot be used for another purpose and pay into a trust fund for the care of the property in the future, he says.
Pet cemetery guidelines are similar to human cemetery guidelines that have been around for years, he says.
Yet not all pet owners want their deceased pets to stay put.
“People will dig their pets up, after 10 or 15 years in the ground, bring them here and have us cremate them because they are moving and don’t want to leave them,” he says.
He remembers one family in particular he disinterred, or dug up, a casket for.
“They put the casket in the moving van, drove to Florida with it and buried it in a pet cemetery down there,” Pavone says.
Another customer, a doctor, wanted only the best for his springer spaniel dog, so he had the dog embalmed at a funeral home, which costs about $1,500, Pavone says. The doctor ordered a stainless steel casket for $1,500 and a custom-made vault costing about $1,800.
But the doctor was still not happy, Pavone says.
“He came out and looked at the vault and decided it wasn’t good enough for his pet. In the meantime, the dog had been in my back room for about 10 days,” he says.
So, the doctor picked up his deceased dog and kept it in his home for several months while a new vault was made: a replica of the vault Elvis Presley was buried in, at a cost of $15,000.
“When that vault came it was bronze and brass,” he says. “It was too pretty to put in the ground.”
The doctor kept changing his mind, but in the end, “he was just as happy as pie,” Pavone says.
Yet most pet owners who bury beloved pets are average working people.
"The average guy, who works 9 to 5, comes home, and the minute he puts the key in the door he hears the dog barking or the tail whapping against the wall," Pavone says. "When that dog leaves, it takes a part of his heart. It gives him a lot of solace and gratitude that he is able to give something back.”
Molly Corfman is a senior photojournalism major. This is her second semester working for The Burr.