My neighbor Andy built a number of pet coffins. He did this first for a neighbor’s 19-year-old dog. Then he started more to sell on eBay. Then one fine day he had a stroke and was gone like that.
His widow, J., let me choose among the smaller boxes for Robbie’s ashes.
“Smaller” is a matter of perception. One box was a clear standout despite being only partially finished. That box I brought home. But small it’s not.
I filled the nail holes and cracks yesterday and now am contemplating its decoration. Andy would have stained and sealed it. I have something more elaborate in mind. Something along the lines of the Modigliani table (finished table here) or “Doorway to the Sun.”
Stone pagodas not having much color potential, I proclaimed it a ziggurat and am now seeking out sources of ancient funerary art to inspire me. Ziggurats were Mesopotamian. What did Mesopotamian funerary art look like? Does anyone even know? (Yes, apparently they do.) Search engine time is ahead. If all else fails, I’ll end up with quasi-faux-Victorian-parody Egyptian. Never know, starting out, exactly where these projects will carry themselves.
The other thing that struck me about the Ziggurat Urn is that it’s not only large enough to hold Robbie, but also Jasmine. And … ulp, ultimately me. So there it is: the urn for my (hopefully long in the) future ashes, to be mixed with those of my heart dogs.
Is that weird, or what? But what could be better than to spend my immortality, or what passes for it, in a box made for dogs?