Somewhere Rover the rainbow : Unusual memorials for pets around the world

A matchbox coffin for a fly who once lived in an office; a headstone for a messenger pigeon; a snail who ‘lived life well’... vignettes from a new book.

A cow named Faustina Gwynne, who chased the neighbours and thus spread joy through her owner’s home. Jonny the snail, loyal companion to a man in Los Angeles. A once-annoying fly that lived in an office… These are creatures that have all been memorialised twice over: once with graves and tombstones, and now in Paul Koudounaris’s new book on such shrines, Faithful Unto Death.

“The truth is, people can form a bond with almost any species,” says the photographer, who

An archival image of the Hyde Park cemetery. (Courtesy Faithful Unto Death)

What other remarkable graves did Koudounaris uncover in his research? Take a look.

A decorated flight officer

Mary of Exeter, a messenger pigeon nicknamed “the bird who would not give up”, received a public burial at the Ilford Animal Cemetery in England, when she died.

In life, she had embarked on the most dangerous flights of all during World War 2 (only 10% of messenger birds returned, on average). She carried missives across the English Channel, to and from resistance fighters operating behind German lines. At the end of the war, she was awarded the Dickin Medal for animal heroism (instituted in 1943). She lived five more years, dying in 1950.

Laid to rest in a matchbox

The smallest grave Koudounaris uncovered was dug for a fly, in Maryland. Its body was delivered to the Aspin Hill Pet Cemetery in a tiny jewellery box, with a note detailing its stint at an office (that has so far remained unnamed).

The fly had apparently refused to leave, lived on for weeks, and won over the employees. They had grown so fond of it, they now wanted to give it a decent interment, they wrote.

The cemetery dug a tiny grave for the fly, near a bush. A matchbox became its coffin. Since no money had been included for a headstone, the spot went unmarked, and the exact location is now unknown.

What happened in Vegas

At the other end of the spectrum, a performing elephant named Stoney has the largest gravesite in Koudounaris’s book. A 15-ft-by-20-ft hole was dug for Stoney at the Craig Road Pet Cemetery in Las Vegas, in 1995. His headstone describes him as a gentle giant.

The grave of Barry S Bernard.

Meanwhile, at the Cemetery of the Dogs in Paris, a 30-ft cenotaph marks the resting site of Barry S Bernard, credited with saving 40 travellers, including a boy trapped on an icy ledge. Legend has it he was shot accidentally, in 1812, by a traveller he was trying to rescue in the Swiss Alps. His cenotaph reads: “He saved the life of 40 people... he was killed by the 41st.”

A trail of memories

Jonny the snail lived in a man’s yard in Echo Park, Los Angeles, for more than a year. The man (who has chosen to go unnamed) built a two-sq-metre enclosure among his plants, to protect Jonny from predators. The snail died in 2016, and was laid to rest where he had lived, with a replica in stone marking the grave.

Hollywood endings

A number of animal actors, and actors’ pets, are buried at the Los Angeles Pet Memorial Park. Perhaps the most famous of these is Tawny, the roaring lion in the MGM logo. He was laid to rest here with his best friend, a tomcat named Cinderella, in 1940. Also buried here is the actor Mae West’s pet gibbon, Boogie, who starred alongside her in the film I’m No Angel (1933). The site bears no marker, so as to let him rest in peace.

Last rites

At Juarez in Mexico. (Paul Koudounaris)

One thing Koudounaris wishes he could have included more of, he says, are the funeral rites for pets in various cultures, particularly in Asia. In Bangkok, for instance, he visited a Buddhist temple where monks chant over the animal’s body before it is cremated on site. The owner may then go down with the monks to the river, where the ashes are released.

In Japan and Taiwan, many Buddhist temples have columbaria where people can lay a pet’s ashes to rest. Koudounaris visited pet cemeteries in Helsinki in Finland, and Juarez in Mexico, where each grave is marked by a hand-painted image of the animal, on wood or rock.

Tika‘s grave in a desert pet cemetery in California. (Paul Koudounaris)

His own cat Tika, who was laid to rest in 2017, does subtly find its way into the book. The gravestone bears little paw prints and declares, one last time: “A calico, not a tortie. Get it right!”

In a dedication of sorts, towards the end, Koudounaris writes: “I loved her, and I understand all of you who have loved and lost. In this we are all united.”