Since my early years, I’ve witnessed pets that died, either by age or an ailment that couldn’t be treated. My strongest memory is that of Bingo, a breed unknown to us to this day, but a puppy who was just five days old when my father brought him home. He lived to be around 13 years old before passing due to complications. Not wanting to part with him entirely, we buried him right in front of our house, by the gate, and cemented the whole area. Years have gone by, but we still feel his presence around us.
My second pet was Scooby, who again was taken by age and health issues. We buried him in a facility where my father works, and there are always people around. He was a sensitive little guy, a brown and white mixed Labrador who was afraid of the dark. So, it only felt right to have him buried amongst the movement of people and sounds, so he’d feel safe. The soil enriched by his renewal now blooms with hibiscus flowers. What a fitting way to honor his life, isn’t it?
For a long time, I had forgotten about these two incidents until very recently. Last week, we woke up to a stench coming from our basement, more specifically from the washer/dryer room. It was unpleasant and disgusting, to say the least. One sniff and we knew it was a dead animal, and we presumed it was a rat. We’ve seen dead baby rats before, but nothing like this.
A day went by, and we simply could not locate the source. Some calls were made for removal, but nothing worked in our favor.
Day three, operation impossible had to be executed. Wearing N91 masks, my husband, the handyman of our house, went down deep and dirty. He crawled his way into the crawl space, determined to locate the dead animal. We were so sure it was a rat, just one that was bigger in size. A good two hours passed, and then euphoria was in sight. He had finally made his way through mud, cement, and wood, and hidden was the animal we so desperately wanted to find, an opossum. Slowly rotting away was an adult opossum. I’ll forego the messy details and aftermath of the find for another day.
With a yard space large enough to accommodate and provide so much, we decided to bury the opossum close to our lavender plant. Somehow, the whole burying activity had us thinking and feeling far more than we normally would. It was sad, in a way, to think of the life of the animal, especially knowing it had dry leaves all over it. Many questions arose in my mind. Was it planning to bunk down below the deck? Did it get caught and suffocate? Or was it an old opossum who simply gave up on life and breathed its last?
It may seem like a silly thing now, but small, trivial matters sometimes occupy the most space and make us think so far and deep.
Nevertheless, we buried the opossum and even laid a few weeds (flowers) for lack of real flowers that day. We placed a stick over the spot, just in case other animals might smell their way to our yard and dig it up. Just a wild thought and a precaution, that’s all.
This whole ordeal ended over the weekend, and finally, our house was rid of the smell and odor. But my thoughts keep going back to the animal. I wish it had peace and lived the life it was meant to. We always wish that for humans, for our family and friends, and not to forget ourselves when the time comes.
But why not also pause for a moment and think of all the living species, and all that’s got life, however short or long it may be on this planet? Burying the dead is one of the greatest challenges and one of the most intimate moments of our lives. May we live to tell a story and leave behind many memories to remember and cherish.
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