It's the Hap-Happiest Time of the Year

A couple of days ago, in among the Christmas cards and insurance ads, there was an envelope in the mail from Peaceful Paws, the pet cremation service where the emergency vet sent my beautiful little dog. Now, I have to think it can't be a cheery job, cremating a steady stream of dogs and cats, nipping a lock of hair to sell you later in the form of a paper weight or pendant, taking footprints from lifeless feet to make keepsake ornaments. There must be a level of callousness that these people have to achieve in order to go to work every day.

But the contents of the aforementioned envelope stopped me cold. The heading wished me "The Gift of Warm Memories... of Seasons Past with (sic) Gromet", but the kicker was the title of the poem to follow, printed in a bold font, Christmas Without My Dog. They had customized the heading and poem, misspelling both his name, Gromit, and his breed, schipperke.

I guess it was well meant. Later, after I regained my composure, I peered into the envelope looking for a page two that offered me the chance to buy some warm memories at budget prices, but they weren't trying to sell me a darn thing. All I can say is, Peaceful Paws, what were you thinking??