Here Fido! (A Short Story)
“Tom’s dog died,” said Paul, Tom’s brother. Paul was sitting on his porch, quietly rocking the October evening away.
“No!” replied Jim, a friend. “He loved that animal. How long did he have that dog?”
“About 15 years.”
“So what’d he do with it? Bury him in his backyard?”
“No. Tom figured on a pet cemetery.”
“You don’t say.” said Jim.
“To start, Tom made the coffin for his dog. He wrapped Fido up in aluminum foil to contain any bad odor. He laid the dog in the coffin. He lit candles and had a CD playing the dog’s favorite song, Elvis singing ‘Hound Dog’.”
“Then he arranged for a wake with animals. There must’ve been about 20 cats and dogs and a bunch of parakeets yaking away. And Tom trained one parakeet to deliver the eulogy. The dog loved birds and Tom thought it would’ve been nice but the bird just kept saying, ‘You’re going to hell! You’re going to hell!’ It belonged to a minister.
“The next day Tom called the pet cemetery and made arrangements for burial but the place couldn’t accept delivery for 2 days. In the meantime, Tom kept the dog, now wrapped in 3 layers of aluminum foil, in his freezer. He forgot to tell his wife when she reached in and pulled out the dog thinking it was a steak all ready for the oven. Two hours later it was cooked. Luckily Tom found out before his wife took a bite. He decided to put the dog in a safety deposit box in a bank.
“When Friday came and it was time to take the dog to the cemetery, Tom went to the bank to discover that the IRS had a court order to open up box 163 but mistakenly opened up 164 which was Tom’s. Well, they were pretty surprised to find a cooked dog inside.
“The bank employees had disposed of the dog by putting it into a trash compactor. Tom explained the situation and the dog was returned, but it had been squeezed down to half its former size.
“Tom took Fido, put it in a bag and left. He returned to his car and when he got there a mugger robbed him at gunpoint taking his wallet and the bag. Tom tried telling the thief that there was nothing but a dead dog inside but the crook took it anyway. Can you imagine the look on that guy’s face when he opened the bag?” laughed Paul.
“Anyway,” he continued, “when Tom returned home the police called him and said they got the thief and he could pickup his bag. Tom rushed over, claimed his bag and dog and headed to the pet cemetery. This time he finally made it.
“He was asked a lot of questions by the cemetery owners why the dog was cooked, compacted and wrapped in foil and Tom explained everything. The burial was arranged for Sunday so Tom went home happy. However, on Saturday, he got a call from the manager of the cemetery. They had made a mistake and cremated the dog, but the mistake was discovered in time so only half the dog was cremated.
“Tom was very depressed at this point. All he could say was, ‘My dear Fido. My dear Fido. What have they done to you?’
“Then Sunday morning came and as he was getting ready to leave for the burial service, he got another call from the cemetery manager. This time they said they the dog had somehow got mixed in with some paper documents that were headed for an industrial shredder and, well, the dog had been shredded. And, at that point, Tom had a nervous breakdown.”
“Did they finally bury the dog?” asked Jim.
“Yea, in pieces. Tom never made it though. He was in the hospital at the time. His wife is talking about getting him another dog soon hoping that’ll help him get better.”
“Yea, it might,” said Jim.