When our beloved thoroughbred Classical Truce suddenly died, we just as suddenly had to make arrangements for her remains. We thought of Bosko, the chocolate lab whose ashes rest in our garden.
We opted for cremation. Big mistake.
When the guy with a bad phone connection described the dimensions of the wooden box, I heard but didn’t hear. He said Tuesday.
On Tuesday a very nice woman of Amazonian physique knocked on my door, led me out to her car, and corded her neck muscles trying to pick this thing up.
She asked me where I wanted her to put it, and I told her.
I haven’t tried to move it. And the dog crate is collapsing.