I Don't Care If Your Pet Cemetery IS Fortune 500-listed, I STILL Want to Speak with the Manager!

Maggie, our pet barn owl, was my best friend. I was sure she would be fine in the den while I cleaned her cage. I shrieked in horror when I saw the brown feathers wafting from our newly-purchased 600-horsepower Roomba.

In a panic, I opened the intake bag.

“Dear God, nooo!! Who?? I mean how??”

In tears, binge-eating my 29th bag of Wise potato chips, I knew it was time to seek professional help.

The attending psychiatrist at ACI Rehab Unit told me I needed to find closure and suggested a memorial service. When she left, I overheard her say, “Jesus H. Christ, this one gets the prize,” but I never got the Quizno’s gift card I hoped for.

As I walked into JP Morgan Chase Pet Cemetery and Memorial Gardens LLC, I heard strains of Ol' Yeller streaming from the speakers and saw a marble bust of the Taco Bell Chihuahua with “RIP Gidget 1994-2009 Yo quiero formaldehyde” engraved on the pedestal.

A man named Walter introduced himself as a memorial consultant. He wore a dark gray business suit with a white carnation in the lapel and carried a calculator. We went into his office where he expressed his sorrow over my loss, pointed out the box of Kleenex, and got down to brass tacks.

"Nothing but the best for the dearly beloved. Might I recommend the Griefmaster 5000 casket with two guest bedrooms, tennis courts, and a wine cellar? Featured on the cover of Better Homes and Caskets and chosen by Andy Richter for his dearly departed cat, Luigi."

"Thing is, Walter, my cat got hold of Maggie and threw her remains into the bathroom toilet which my 6-year-old son unknowingly flushed.”

"Oh, a burial at sea. That will be great. The USS Maine is available. We’ll order a flotilla of support vessels and book the US Naval Academy Honor Guard for a 19-gun salute.”

"Actually, she was 4-F.”

"Oh, too bad. I guess we can just pretend there’s a body. No harm in that, right? How about a mausoleum and an eternal flame? We'll need about two million gallons of eternal propane…"

"No eternal flame. Maggie's brother was maimed in a bonfire at a Purdue pep rally.”

"Oh, how unfortunate. Okay, we'll make it a 1,000,000-lumen eternal flashlight. And we’ll need 1,000 Sears Diehard batteries. Technically won't last for all eternity, but should get us a few centuries.

“Now for the hearse. An M-113 armored personnel carrier staffed with 100 US Air Force officer/Fish and Wildlife Service official pall bearers.”

“I TOLD YOU SHE WAS 4-F. LAST THING I NEED RIGHT NOW IS A GOVERNMENT INVESTIGATION…but she did serve honorably as a Brooklyn Public Library volunteer. So maybe a bookmobile.”

“Excellent. With a custom high-end paint job using Mercedes proprietary Alubeam™ jet black premier lacquer. We’ll see to everything.

“Michael Tilson Thomas will conduct the New York Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus in a performance of Verdi’s Requiem at MetLife Stadium in Maggie’s honor, as the Blue Angels do a flyover in V formation and 500 class A Lockheed M-2000 skyrockets are detonated by the United States Air Force Strategic Ballistic Missile Command.”

“I TOLD YOU SHE WAS…oh, never mind…”

Walter’s right hand entered the data into his calculator at lightning speed, as his pupils narrowed to the size of as yet undiscovered elemental molecules on the Periodic Table of Chemical Elements.

“Maybe we can get Lady Gaga to headline. No, crap, she’s in Atlanta for a gerbil cremation. Such a pity. Cute little bugger. Eaten by Clint Black in a freak, drunken Waffle House accident. He DID look kinda like a BLT in the dim light. Maybe…”

Recalling movies and my middle school crisis intervention training, I slapped Walter. He said, “Thanks, I needed that,” and reset his calculator.

“We'll commission Maya Lin to design a memorial sculpture on the mall in Washington. We have 50 tons of top-grade marble on back order. The funeral will be at Carnegie Hall. The secretary of state will coordinate the arrival of foreign dignitaries at JFK Airport. And we'll need security for the motorcade. DAMMIT! My calculator! Cheap-ass batteries! Um, I mean will the Park Hyatt presidential suite be sufficient for the immediate family?”

A week later, our Airedale died of parvo.

We flushed him down the toilet too.