The Sad Demise Of Darwin
One day in May 2009, I got a tearful phonecall from Wife, telling me that Darwin, our Pyrenees Mountain Dog, had been in the exact same position for an hour. This wasn't exactly new, but there seemed something a bit, well, permanent, about it this time. I left work, pondering what we were going to do. I got home, and there he was. He'd died in his sleep, on top of some ruinously expensive plants. "Where's he going?" I asked Wife. "What do you mean?" She replied "Where am I burying him?" "You have got to be fucking kidding" If you've never seen a Pyr, they are big. Any grave I dug would be pretty noticeable, and would ruin what little of the garden hadn't already been ruined by our massive dog. "Ring the vets. We'll have to have him cremated." Wife is the grown up in the relationship, you'll have noticed. So, I rang the vets. Yes, we could send him for cremation, but the clock was ticking- we had