"One of the one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master."
-Ben Hur Lampman

In my normal web travels this week, I have happened across a couple posters in online message boards struggling with the difficulty over the loss of a good canine friend. For some, the pain revolved around an uncertainty in how to move forward, and ever open their hearts to another dog, for others it centered around how to best memorialize human animal bond which now feels so raw and severed by the finality of death itself. How do we as canine parents remember the lives of those who we have lost? Their lives are so much shorter than ours, and as such built into the fabric of our love for them, is always the knowledge that the time will come when we will be forced to say goodbye.

A cultural revolution has taken place in regards to our relationship with dogs. Dogs have become part of our families, we feed them organic foods, buy them specialty toys, and collars and in many ways revolve our lives around their needs. As such, it is no shock to then recognize that the way we handle their deaths has changed as well. The options available to us in the moment of their passing is now much longer than burying the body in the backyard. Canine parents now can choose to purchase a plot in a private pet cemetery, and individual cremation with return of the ashes to scatter in a beloved place, or to keep in one of the uncountable number of pet specific urns sold on the market. There are even some companies, which are making necklaces specially designed to hold a small amount of the ashes, so they can always be near your heart.

Over the course of my life there have been several dogs who I have loved and lost, either due to death, or circumstances beyond my control (as a teenager and dog sport competitor I experienced homelessness and was forced to rehome the dogs who had been the most important aspects of my life) and each holds a very special place in my heart. For me, their memories are an important part of my daily life and spirituality and I honor their memories in several ways. The first, and most visible to the outside world would be in some of the tattoos, which adorn my body. Body modification is an important part of my life, and something I use to mark important passages of time and events. In fact, the first tattoo I ever got was the beginning of a memorial to the dogs who I have loved and lost. Since that faithful day many years ago where ink connected with flesh for the first time, the tattoo has been expanded upon, and others have joined it (including a stylized portrait of Mercury). I also hold a special place in my home for the memory of the animals that have touched my heart and soul. In our living room sits an altar. The altar, contains photographs, their collars and/or tags, a beloved tennis ball from our dog Cosmo who we lost going on three years ago, an agility trophy etc. Each item holds symbolic importance about the dogs (and one dog-like cat) who no longer walk at my side. The altar also includes the ashes of my childhood best friend, the Lhasa Apso who was like a brother to me. Seeing this altar every day, constructing it, and caring for it feels me with a deep since of inner peace and calmness.

I still feel a very deep and spiritual connection to the dogs who have physically left my side, and believe deeply that they are with me always. For me marking their lives in ink upon my flesh is more then simply a physical memory of my own loss, but is a living memorial to the beauty of their lives. I would not be the person I am today were it not for the dogs who have left their footprints in my heart, and as such it only makes sense that my memories of them have an important part of my life as well. This is however a topic that interests me, and I'm really curious to hear how others reading this column have or plan to memorialize or honor the passing of a beloved dog.