Panic Slowly

It was early Saturday eve when Penny got in touch.  Penny worked for me years ago in another time and place. “Katie (her daughter) has sent you a message, can you have a read? It’s about one of her dog cremations”.  Its after-hours but it is a personal connection. Of course, no trouble. They are all personal connections.

Katie has today plucked up the courage to plant the ashes of her dog Bella under a rose bush. As she poured her dogs ashes into the memorial rose pot, a tag dropped in. A tag that didn’t belong to her dog in life. Fear arrives in a heartbeat.  What is that tag? It must be a registration tag. It must be a registration tag from someone else’s dog! Whose dog have I just buried.  Where is my dog!!!  Her message to me ended “I don’t know what to do”.  An emotional paralysis of sorts, a stunned disbelief.

I have learnt to panic slowly.

I know what she has witnessed. 

Council registration tags are plastic, and they cremate and leave nothing.  The tag she observed is very purposeful.  It is a stainless steel tag, punched with a unique identification number so that we can track the pet’s identity throughout the process, most particularly as they change form.  The cremation ID tag is there to provide absolute assurance, yet today it has caused distress.

I let Katie know the tag’s function, and also Penny so she knows we have resolved the confusion.  When pets are submitted to us from our preferred veterinary provider, they apply the tag and document that on the booking. The beginning of the chain of custody.  Most do a really good job describing this during the euthanasia consultation, but how much detail can a person absorb in their moment of grieving.  It’s certainly overwhelming in that moment if the death has been unexpected or traumatic, but Penny tells me Katie has lost her other dog 6 weeks prior. I get that. Surviving is the priority.

Bella and Elvis in their hay day

Sunday morning, Karl is on duty at the facility.  I get a voice message from him. 

“Please ring me.  There’s an email, and I feel sick”. 

Before connecting with me the night before, Katie had emailed the website contact.  That message had a little more spice than the message she sent to me – the spice reflecting the utter devastation Katie felt seemingly having lost her dog twice.

“I want to know whose ashes I have because this tag is in no way hers and has never been.

I am absolutely reeling and have no idea how to react.

Please tell me what to do because I am lost and have no idea where my dog is, who I have just buried and why a reputable company has even remotely managed to mix up remains.”

Karl wants to vomit.  How should he approach someone experiencing such hurt? How could this happen? “I double check every time, I promise, in fact there are two checks during the process…”  He goes on to fully describe his process, so that I know for sure that it is in keeping with the company’s policy and procedures.  He is significantly impacted.  I like that.  That’s how I know he’s all in. Of suitable character to be conducting this task, and not cold or hard about it.

I’ve learnt several things while operating this business.  The most helpful is to panic slowly.  If something doesn’t make sense or feels off please know we do care deeply. Feel free to connect with questions or concerns.  We are alongside for the duration.

Rest easy Bella and Elvis.  You have been loved