Taxidermy Dog

I usually get called out for being the wacky sister in my family. Today, however, the tables were turned. My mom, sister and I were lounging in the den, enjoying the company of our two lovable dogs. Mason is the older brother, approaching the ripe age of ten. The term brother is used loosely in our family, because Max and Mason are by no means blood related, but they are as much a part of our family as any other human member.

We all hold a special fondness for Mason because he is much better behaved than Max, who is still a puppy. Mason is considerably more calm, and gentle, and even more handsome than the adorable but mischievous Max. My sister was giving Mason a good belly rub when she suddenly inquired, "Mom can we please get him taxidermied?" I stopped to ponder the possibility of a stuffed Mason sitting in the corner of the living room, or perhaps the den we were currently occupying. The thought of it sent a chill down my spine. I understand why some people choose to honor their pets by preserving them, but it is not how I would choose to remember a family pet.

After envisioning a stuffed Mason sporting a ceaseless blank stare with cold glass eyes, peering down to admire the warm, tail wagging, alive version, seems so much better.

He is a handsome boy