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  When I called the cemetery guys I was told to meet them at a specific time at a specific section of the cemetery. I was on time. The place I was to meet them at was nothing but a shed on the far side of the cemetery - and nobody was there. I waited and waited and waited and nobody came. So I finally drove to the main building, walked in and started screaming at the S.O.Bs. Well, suddenly they sorta remembered I was coming, but as it was just an animal it wasn't important enough for them to remember about. I was taken to a room, filled out the paperwork, paid the money and drove back to the shed with one of the fancy-pants guys from the funeral home. He opened up the shed and opened up a a large freezer in the shed and told me to put my little dog's body in the freezer with a bunch of other frozen dogs - and nothing whatsoever to identify her body from the others. So, yeah, I know the can of ashes I got back weren't hers. The dogs I lost since then I took to a friend's property and buried them deep where he'd buried his own dogs over the years. At least then I know where they are and what happened to them - unlike the screwing I took at Fawnwoods.

  Added February 16, 2017 by DoubleDogDare54