IT WAS not what I expected to see on a Borders hillside. A dead hare or rabbit, possibly. A dead bird or small rodent. Even a recently deceased, still to be collected sheep. But there it was, an area set aside for dead animals.
Thankfully, those already there were safely underground. Very much so because we were walking past a pets' cemetery. I looked for inscriptions such as "Gone for long walkies" or "Not dead, only sleeping" – you're only kidding yourself, my friend – bu
t most who had paid to bury a pet and have the spot marked for eternity, or at least until the writing faded or the stone fell over, had opted for lines such as "A dear companion, greatly missed" or "In loving memory, a dear friend".
Headstones ranged from small and low to the full mind-boggling works in marble, with winged angel. Used as I am to animals buried in discreetly sited, unmarked holes or at most under a homemade, hand-painted wooden cross at the request of children, I goggled at the sight.
Pets buried there had been dear to someone. Whether that meant they should be buried in a designated graveyard – with funeral service? – with several marked by more expensive headstones than I expect when I go is another matter.
As someone in favour of moderation in all things, I guess it was the marble angel on a pet's grave that shook me. It still did even after reflecting that my reaction was because I've seen too many dead animals and dug too many holes for too many sheep, in the days before, a) JCB diggers took the hard work out of the job, then, b) the Government made it illegal to bury farm animals because of a perceived threat to the environment and groundwater supplies.
However, it is legal to bury people in the countryside – as long as they're dead, obviously – who are apparently no threat to water supplies, and there is increasing demand for 'green' burial sites.
Quite right. Many a poet has written about the peacefulness of country churchyards, but no surprise that a decade ago there were barely a dozen 'green' burial sites in the UK and there are now more than 220; or that two-thirds of those asked would like – only when the time comes, of course, no rush – to be in a sensible biodegradable cardboard coffin among the bluebells, preferably with only a tree to mark the spot.
From a business point of view, providing such green sites – or a pets' cemetery, come to that – is a useful income earner for landowners and farmers. The economics of that I leave to others.
All I question is whether even those who can afford it should erect expensive marble headstones to dogs when retracing a favourite walk or patting the gatepost the dog favoured should be enough.
I always remember Banjo, the cat we had – or, as it usually seemed, vice versa – for 16 years when cutting grass round the small apple tree we buried him beside, or as I remind myself for the umpteenth time to sand down and revarnish the bedroom door panel he shredded over the years to attract attention.
He wouldn't have appreciated a marble headstone. Nor do I.
The full article contains 558 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
