unproofed

I was sorting through receipts when she knock on my door to tell me her pet pig had died. It wasn't surprising news, he was old for a pig and his health had been failing.

He was lying on the floor not unlike he usually was except he was too far off of his bed. His eyes were slightly open.

She didn’t know what to do so she found me.

It was a running joke in my work after every Christmas and every Easter, I would get asked if the pig had survived the holidays and sometimes I would get asked what we would do when he passes. So, when my sister came to me, I did have a plan.

I know they cremate pets at the MSPCA. Normally, pets get buried in the yard or on the family’s land up north but an eighty pound pig is too large for burying in the city. I’m certain the neighbors would get suspicious if I had a freshly dug grave large enough for a seven year old child.

I googled the animal hospital for the phone number.

When I told them why I was calling and I got quite worried when she said “I don’t think we take that type of animal.” I couldn’t figure why they wouldn’t. I wasn’t asking for any emergency care or any type of medical procedure that may require some sort of pig expert. I just wanted a carcass taken care of.

I thought I was in for a lot of digging for a Saturday night while I was on hold while she checked. It turned out that they would take him. I was to show up at Emergency and then go from there.

I grabbed a moving blanket; it was the only blanket that I didn’t care getting back or not even though it cost more than any blanket that has been on my bed. It covered him nicely and it seemed a kind gesture that the blanket was padded. When I asked my sister if she had any interest in going, she just tearfully shook her head “no.”

I’ve only picked him up maybe twice before, after he reached adulthood; moving him was always awkward. I placed him in the bed of my truck and wrapped a rope around him once, just so he wouldn’t slide around. I was glad the rain had stopped. When I stood back up straight, I noticed the bottom on my shirt was wet, I hoped it was just rain from leaning against the truck.

It was an easy drive, maybe twelve minutes. I backed the truck into one of the spots marked ‘Emergency.’ It felt a little odd just leaving him in the back of the truck as I went in to fill out the paperwork.

There were four people in the lobby and two that I could see behind the desk; I walked over and started to say why I was there when one of them finished my story. I was handed a form to fill out; I did the best I could. It seemed stupid and unnecessary to put down my sister’s information so I used my own. I didn’t know his birthday and other information seemed for dogs or cats.

As my information was being entered into the system, a couple, father and adult daughter was my guess, brought in a golden lab. I couldn’t hear what caused the problem but the dogs eyes were both blood red. Their form filling out bumped mine out of the way. I had to wait further as a young couple dropped off a stray. I thought ten thirty on a Saturday night was an odd time to drop off a stray. They lead him in by his collar; he seemed well behaved. Maybe their apartment doesn’t allow pets.

I read the leaves on a piece of art that served as a memorial to what I thought would be just pets but some of the messages seemed for people. I don’t know why it was shaped like a tree, other than to just be different. One of the leaves was engraved not quite level.

Some guy walked over to the desk, I think he had just adopted a terrier mix. The placed seemed too busy. He was asking about kennel cough because he was warn that his new found furry little friend might have it. It was explained that it’s usually a virus but it wasn’t something to worry too much about unless the symptoms were to worsen. I rolled my eyes as the guy asked for the indications of ‘worse symptoms.’ One of the things he was told was that his dog would cough more frequently. I thought “Poor little dog.”

When it got to be my turn again, I was told that I could just bring the body in. I hesitated because I know it didn’t look pretty getting him to the truck and I really didn’t want to wrestle with a dead pig through a strangely over crowed lobby.

She offered a stretcher but she meant a gurney. I took her up on her offer. She had followed me to the truck with the gurney and I helped her maneuver it back inside. I think she was surprised by the weight of him.

Before she took him to some back room, she asked if I wanted the blanket back. It seemed petty to ask for its return but I couldn’t find a reason not to get it back so I did.

I was just going to have him cremated and then forget about it but my sister was a little shaken by losing her pet of seventeen years so I opted for a private cremation so I could get the ashes back, or at least I’ll get some sort of ashes back.

I was told it would take about four weeks and then I would get a call that they were shipping the ashes UPS. It was my name and address so it will ship to me; I’m thinking of buying a large piggy bank and sealing up the coin slot.