On our journey's I saw a crudely made wooden cross stuck in the ground near some bushes and I walked closer to see what the poop was up.
Upon further inspection, I see that its a little grave, freshly dug surely as there's some wilted daisies laid on top.
Marking it is a cross made of leftover plywood, filled with children's writing, mostly about "Jesus loves you, Peanut" and "You were very stinky but you were a cute hamster."
Breakin' my heart.
Naturally I pull out my cell phone to document this morose moment.
As I'm fumbling around in my pocket to grab the phone, my dog surely catches on to what's happening and shoves his nose into the dirt covering the shallow grave.
"NO SATCHEL," I yell and pull him back.
SATCHEL, NO, PEANUT DIDN'T DESERVE THIS.
Why would you bury your dead hamster in a locale extremely populated by animals with swift digging paws of various sizes? Surely Peanut's apparent stench doesn't help the situation.
Admittedly I contemplated putting some sort of log over the grave site to avoid a potential (and scarring) "Peanut; Unearthed and on the Path" incident, should the owner come back to pay respects, but apparently didn't sympathize enough to bother.
On the plus side, I was alerted to the fact that its spelled "HAMSTER" and not "HAMPSTER."
I guess I'm learning the wrong lessons in life.
LONG LIVE PEANUT.
No comments:
Post a Comment