Not all pets under condo site urning to be free

I'm no expert on these matters, but I'm pretty sure that having a condo built on top of a pet cemetery might be unsettling for everybody concerned.

I'm talking about the Paradise Pet Ranch in suburban Lake Worth. The weed-strewn pet cemetery has been sold to a developer who is going to put a condo over the animals' graves, that is, unless you want to come and dig up your pet before the construction starts.

Sounds like something the Anna Nicole Smith lawyers might want to debate while they're in the area.

If I had a pet at the Paradise Pet Ranch, I'd be tempted to go there with a shovel and dig. That's because I've covered enough condo disputes over the years to know that condos make for better "restless places" than "resting places."

It'll be a little unsettling for the future condo owners on that property, too, especially if the former cemetery is reflected in the new condo's name.

I'm thinking: Whisper Woofs Estates.

Ashes to clashes

But like I said, I'm far from an expert on the dignity of pet interment.

I failed miserably after the death of our dearly departed dog, Daisy, whose traumatic, sudden death caught my family off guard.

When the 6-year-old dachshund died, my wife and I decided we should do something to memorialize her. She had been very special to us, particularly to our kids. Daisy had been the only pet they really ever knew.

My wife and I quietly conferred, opting for a ceremony.

We paid an extra $80 to have Daisy cremated and put in a golden urn that included an inscription of her name.

We sat the kids down and explained that we'd bury Daisy's urn in our back yard and plant daisies over the spot, this way we'd always think of her when we looked at the flowers there.

We thought the kids would be relieved. Instead, they were horrified.

"You had Daisy burned in a fire!" my daughter shrieked.

The visual horror of their floppy eared, 20-pound dog being reduced to a tin of ashes far outweighed the theoretical tranquility of her resting spot.

What once seemed soothing was now treated like something that might prompt the kids to report us to The Hague.

My wife and I hid the urn, never to mention it again to them. And we immediately did what they requested: We found another dachshund that looked like Daisy.

The new dachshund puppy, Ruby, who is still with us today, did more to ease their grief than any memorial plan.

Dust gathers dust

Meanwhile, I've had Daisy's urn in my clothes closet, hidden up on a top shelf amid unworn sweaters, mysterious cords to electronic devices and cassette tapes I stopped listening to since the advent of compact discs.

Every once in a while, I'd be in the closet reaching for a shirt, and I'd spot the urn up there amid the clutter in its ever-lengthening limbo.

It's been 10 years now, and the urn hasn't budged. And even though the kids are bigger, the little puppy we once brought home to replace Daisy has herself grown into a creaky old dog.

So I have no interest in broaching the subject of pet mortality again. The urn's not going anywhere. Not any time soon.

And besides, I've learned something during these past 10 years.

You don't need a memorial site to remember. It's the life, and not the death, that survives.

My backyard daisies would have suffered the fate of the rest of my backyard plantings - felled by inadequate sprinkling.

So, if your pet is buried in the Paradise Pet Ranch, take heart.

Like I said, I'm no expert in these matters, but I'm guessing that even a condo built on the site can't change a thing about the pet's life you remember.

Source: www.palmbeachpost.com