I’ve been doing my neighborhood walks again more regularly, and was all about to post this really kind of nice and minimalist notice I saw yesterday
when this absolute nuclear bomb appeared out of nowhere:
It’s fake, but damn, I appreciate the attention to detail. The layout. The advice to Michael. The pushpins. Also, this wasn’t on a busy street, and there isn’t a QR code that will take me to a Go Fund Me for a terrible indie film. This was done for the pure love of the sport. I tip my sock to you, sir.
Benny and I went with a couple of friends to the local pet cemetery this weekend. I’m kind of surprised that I never went to this pet cemetery before. Actually, I’ve never been to any pet cemetery before other than a pretty makeshift one on Catalina Island and a micro-cemetery down at the Red Car property. (Re: the latter, I think we had more pet graves in our side yard during the fateful Guinea Pig Plague Year when my brother and I were kids.)
But this one in Calabasas is a proper cemetery, with drooping trees and quiet paths and gentle grassy hills. And it being Los Angeles, there are plenty of famous animals
as well as pets of famous people.
There are people who blame themselves too much for the passing of their non-human friends
and people who maybe need to take some time off from having pets.
There are wordy tributes
and not so wordy tributes.
Funny names
and awesome names
Big guys and small guys.
Pets who were a bit challenging
and pets who were extremely patient.
You might think that the pet cemetery is a depressing place, but there is so much love there that I found it exactly the opposite. If you’re having some trouble these days finding the humanity in people, go find yourself a pet cemetery. Bring along some ghost treats.
Fancy Notions 