Coon Dog Cemetery

When my dad and I were in Tupelo, Mississippi, I casually mentioned that I had found a coon dog cemetery about 45 minutes away, just across the state line into Alabama. My dad adopted Leo, a Blue Tick Coon Hound, a few years ago and I love pet cemeteries so it wasn't too much of a stretch. Luckily, he was as enthusiastic as I was, and the next morning we headed to Alabama (this trip was my first time in both MS and AL).

The Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial graveyard is located, appropriately, on Coon Dog Cemetery Road in the northwest corner of Alabama. It was established in 1937 and claims to be the only cemetery of its kind in the world (probably true). You can still pay your respects to the cemeteries first resident, Troop, Key Underwood's faithful hunting companion for more than 15 years. 

Today more than 300 dogs are buried in the cemetery, and there are strict qualifications for potential candidates: "The owner must claim their pet is an authentic coon dog, a witness must declare the deceased is a coon dog and a member of the Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial Graveyard must be allowed to view the coonhound and declare it as such."

When asked why the cemetery is so strict and exclusive, Underwood responded, "You must not know much about coon hunters and their dogs, if you think we would contaminate this burial place with poodles and lap dogs."

The coon dog cemetery is in a very rural, wooded area but it is very well-maintained. Janice M. Williams, aka the Coon Dog Lady, has been taking care of the grounds since 2009, making sure there are (fake) flowers on every grave. We paid our respects to Troop, Lead, Rock, Track, Doctor Doom, Ranger, Blue, Smokey, Bozo, Screamin Hanna, Coats, George, Squeak, Duke, Old Tip, Queen, Sue Walker, Hank, Black Ranger, Gypsy, Ruff Redbone, Red, Skid, Easy Going Sam and others. 

Like other pet cemeteries I've visited, the epitaphs are both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Most of the markers feel handmade and there are traditional stones as well as markers made from concrete, wood and metal. A lot of dog show champions are buried here and their markers bear a long list of initials indicating their prestigious titles. 

The coon dog cemetery ended up being the perfect father-daughter trip destination and judging by the guest book, we aren't alone in our offbeat interests. The dogs themselves come from all over the country, and when we arrived on a Monday afternoon there had already been ten other visitors from Texas, Florida, Montana, Washington and California.

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Coon Dog Cemetery
4945 Coon Dog Cemetery Road
Cherokee, AL 35616

Haven For Pets

Just north of Palm Springs on the side of a flat stretch of road is a dusty lot that you might pass right by if not for the "Pet Cemetery" sign out front. Or if you're me, you come here because you've convinced your friend Jim to pull over at the coordinates on your Google Map labeled with the note "pet cemetery, Liberace."

When we arrived at the cemetery, we were greeted by the caretaker/owner and he was nice enough to take us on an impromptu tour of the small burial ground. He inherited the cemetery from his grandfather, and was struggling to maintain the grounds after a water shortage caused by a dispute with a neighbor. They were slowly trying to rehab the desert landscape, and about half of the ground was covered in grass while the other half was cracked and dry.

Haven for Pets (alternatively known as Pet Haven) has operated as a family-owned pet cemetery in Desert Hot Springs for nearly 60 years. They claim to be Southern California's first green burial ground—caskets and burial shrouds must be biodegrable and embalming fluids and vaults are prohibited. The caretaker explained that he also makes all of the caskets by hand and has fielded some strange requests from bereaed pet owners—one local pastor requested that his bunny be buried with his face turned toward Jerusalem.

Due to its proximity to posh Palm Springs, Haven for Pets has some notable residents, including six of Liberace's dogs (with the epitaph "Love, Lee"). President Gerald Ford's dog Liberty—a golden retriever—lived at the White House during the Ford administration and is interred here, alongside her daughter, Misty. The cemetery is also the final resting place for approximately 1,000 other animals including cats, dogs, birds, monkeys, rabbits, pigs and at least one baby seal.

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Haven for Pets
66270 Dillon Road,
Desert Hot Springs, California
(approximate address, look for the Pet Cemetery sign)

Aspin Hill Memorial Park

On the first day of the road trip I took with my mom back in October, our last stop for the day was in Silver Spring, Maryland (after visiting Divine and the Enchanted Forest). I knew there was a pet cemetery there, but I didn't know much about it, so my expectations weren't very high. What we found was much larger and more elaborate than I had anticipated, and if it weren't for the swarms of bugs (mosquitoes? fleas?) preying on every inch of our exposed flesh, we could've explored for hours. 

Established in 1921, Aspin Hill Memorial Park is thought to be the country's second-oldest pet cemetery, after the one in Hartsdale, New York. Two local dog breeders purchased the land to build a kennel and, inspired by a trip to Hartsdale, they added a cemetery a year later. It was originally used only to bury their own dogs, but they soon began offering plots for sale, advertising it as "one of the most attractive cemeteries in the country," and claiming that it was “destined to become one of the most noted canine cemeteries in the world.”

I think their marketing materials were a little ambitious—and Aspin Hill is no Hartsdale—but it was a popular place. More than 50,000 pets are buried here and more than two dozen humans are buried near their beloved pets (!!). Notable residents include seven of J. Edgar Hoover's dogs and World War I veteran Rags. Lyndon Johnson had his beagles cremated here (they were interred at his ranch in Texas) and it's rumored to be the final resting place of Jiggs, one of the Petey's from Our Gang. Perhaps not as famous, but still worthy mentioning: Andy the well-dressed monkey, Poor Alphie, Napoleon Pierre, Mustard, Flippy, Nabby, Pooky, Bingo, Bunny, Little Boy Baby Thing and Napoleon the Weather Prophet of Baltimore, MD.

The cemetery is now owned by the Montgomery County Humane Society and it's still technically an active cemetery, although they are not currently selling plots. They rely on donations to fund property maintenance, and although it's obviously not abandoned it is not as well-maintained as  Hartsdale. In addition to the hordes of biting bugs (seriously these things were such a menace my mom was back in the car in minutes), there are fallen trees, broken stones, crumbling statues and other signs of neglect. 

This was my fourth pet cemetery (I visited my fifth near Palm Springs in December) and my mom's second (her first was Clara Glen). I think two pet cemeteries in two years officially counts as a mother-daughter tradition, one that I definitely don't mind trying to maintain.

I don't think I'll ever feel as removed from the deceased in pet cemeteries like I do in human cemeteries. Epitaphs to beloved animals such as "I will always love you," and "Faithful to the end" will always make me tear up. And then, because pet cemeteries are such strange places, the next minute I'll be laughing at a ceramic portrait of Frosty the cat (a pal) in a dress.

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Aspin Hill Memorial Park
13630 Georgia Avenue
Silver Spring, MD 20906

Bideawee Pet Cemetery: Ceramics

I've posted about ceramic headstone portraits before, but the I never shared all of the ones we saw at Bideawee Pet Memorial Park. We began noticing the ceramics almost immediately, and for a strange reason—a majority of them had been damaged to the point where you could no longer make out the animal, and it looked intentional. Thankfully, some portraits managed to escape this seemingly random desecration, because they're truly wonderful.

I gave a brief history of human porcelain cemetery portraiture in this post, but it just makes sense that their popularity would spread to pet cemeteries as well. In fact, pet portraits almost seem more normal—even pre-Instagram, I would imagine that pet photography was widespread. The one thing that has been very clear in every pet cemetery that I've visited is just how much animals mean to their owners. Anyone that loves their pet enough to memorialize it with a burial and tombstone would likely have no shortage of photos of their beloved companion.

Some of the portraits feature pets in costumes—like my favorite, the dapper dachshund whose tombstone read "In Loving Memory, Mr. Nathan D. Friedman, My Son," Duchess in what appears to be a hand-knitted sweater (with a hood!) or Penny in her stylish plaid coat.

The portraits aren't reserved exclusively for dogs and cats or single pets—we saw at least a few bird photos as well as group shots. But portraits that really got to me were the ones that included their owners, most of which were from a pre-cellphone camera era. Again, if you loved your pet enough to buy them a granite tombstone, then a Sears portrait studio session probably didn't seem too extravagant either.

Bideawee Pet Cemetery

Bideawee Pet Memorial Park is the third pet cemetery I've been to, and I went only a week after visiting my second, the small but historic Clara Glen Pet Cemetery in New Jersey. Bideawee is a more than 100-year-old pet welfare organization serving the New York City area and Long Island. They have pet memorial parks in Wantagh and Westhampton on Long Island. I became interested in finding other pet cemeteries after visiting my (and America's) first, but the Bideawee memorial park had somehow eluded me until a co-worker who lives in Wantagh brought it to my attention.

The Wantagh location is enormous—larger than most human cemeteries I've been to—and we were there for hours without seeing everything.  I've mentioned in my previous pet cemetery posts that they're the only cemeteries that make me tear up, and Bideawee was no exception. The epitaphs are so heart-wrenching, the portraits so endearing and the names reliably ridiculous.

The most famous resident of the memorial park is Checkers Nixon, "The Best-Known Presidential Dog to Never Have Lived in the White House." Checkers was Richard Nixon's cocker spaniel who became famous after Nixon (then a senator) mentioned him in a speech televised in 1952. Checkers was a campaign gift from a supporter in Texas, and he died at age 13, in 1964—four years before Nixon became President.

In addition to the large number of dogs and cats, Bideawee is the final resting place of a variety of other species including Speedbump, a tortoise who lived to 65; Buckaneer, the horse; an iguana named Godzilla; Mona the monkey; Pyewacket Quigley the duck; parakeets Sparky and Casey Hall; turtles Pretzel and Potato Chip; and pigeons Lindsey and Linde. They had an entire section for "smaller" animals like gerbils, birds and reptiles, proving that pets don't have to be cuddly or live long to make a big impact on their owner's lives.

While walking through a pet cemetery, it's impossible for me not to read most of the names aloud. They're all so wonderful—whimsical or complicated or traditional, most make me laugh through my misty eyes. We paid our respects to Admiral Alexander F. Mudge, Pinto Porkchops, Farnsworth, Jingles Smith, Lady Dodo, Tiny, Daisy Julian, Mustard, Woofie Von Hugel, Beethoven, Potato, Bagel and Pussy #1, among others.

Even if you're not a pet person, you can't deny the impact that these dumb creatures have on their owners and the people that love them. Human cemeteries feel stark and impersonal after you walk through a pet cemetery filled with epitaphs such as "our precious baby," "a piece of my heart lies here," "always remembered, always loved," "my best friend," or simply, "irreplaceable."

Clara Glen Pet Cemetery

Ever since my trip to America's first pet cemetery in Hartsdale, I've been eager to track down more pet burial grounds. I've explored more human cemeteries than I can count, but Hartsdale is the only cemetery that had me tearing up multiple times. It's not that I'm cold and heartless when it comes to human death, but pets and animals are more relatable and helpless. The epitaphs for beloved pets were so much more heartfelt and personal than ones you usually see for humans. It's also easy to put myself into other pet-owner's shoes, thinking about my own cat and her eventual demise (when I'm not mad at her for screaming in my face, that is).

Clara Glen Pet Cemetery was founded in 1918 by Clara and Glen White, an animal-loving couple who had multiple dogs, cats and rabbits. They started the cemetery in their backyard in Linwood, NJ, and now Clara Glen is one of the oldest pet cemeteries in the country (Hartsdale was founded in 1896). Celebrities from nearby Atlantic City, like Irving Berlin and Billie Burke, have pets buried in the cemetery, alongside 3,800 other animals. Rex the Wonder Dog water-skied in Atlantic City's Steel Pier water show in the 1930s and 40s, and a diving horse (we saw at the last diving horse left in the country at the Magic Forest) is rumored to be buried here as well.

Pet cemeteries are disorienting because they're so serious on the one hand—losing a pet is devastating—and ridiculous on the other, with stones etched with names like Buttons Gifford, Fifi, Puddles Sawyer, Fluffruff, Mr. Bum, Rover and Pokey Palermo. While Clara Glen is tiny compared to Hartsdale, which contains more than 80,000 animals, I'm actually shocked that so many people opt to incur the expense of burying their pets in a public cemetery, instead of having them cremated or buried in their own backyards.

Clara Glen had fallen into disrepair over the years, and many stones have been broken or vandalized. It's now maintained by the Linwood Historical Society, and remains a bit overgrown but in fair shape. It's still basically located in someone's backyard, in a nice residential neighborhood near a cul-de-sac. We felt a little bit as if we were trespassing, but it's easy enough to slip in and out of for a quick visit.

I wish more of the stones hinted at what kind of animal lies beneath—in addition to mostly dogs and cats, we saw one confirmed bird named Polly Donnelly. Poodle statues were common, along with St. Francis, the patron saint of animals. I didn't tear up at Clara Glen as much as I did in Hartsdale—the epitaphs were sweet, but short—and it was a great little detour on our way back from Atlantic City.

I mentioned recently that owning a house with a backyard cemetery is my new life goal, and after visiting Clara Glen I'm thinking I should revise that to include pet cemeteries as well.

Hartsdale Pet Cemetery: Part Two

Aside from all of the ridiculous names (I'm still laughing at Freckles Rutherford) to be found at the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery, what really got to me were all of the heartfelt epitaphs from grief-striken owners to their dearly departed pets. Every "human" cemetery I've been to includes the usual sentiments, from "Rest in Peace," and "Dear Mother," to more heartfelt declarations such as "Friend to All," or "Never Forgotten."

But at Hartsdale it seemed as if almost every single stone had an achingly sad and personal inscription, from "My One and Only," or "The Love of My Life," to thoughtful eulogies such as "They Gave Nothing But Love and Affection," and "Dillon loved biscuits, sticks, snow, fetch, burgers, walks, sitting outside, and his family as much as we love him" (Dillon and I have a lot in common).

These deeply personal and heartwrenching words really tugged at my pet-loving soul and caused me to tear up almost immediately. I've never been surrounded by so many loving words and the affection that each owner felt toward their pet was incredibly moving.

I walked by the graves of at least two cats dueling it out for all of eternity for the title of "Best Cat Ever" — Tara and Bentley — Hodge the "Good Gray Cat," Fudge who was "A Most Remarkable Cat," Sport, who "Was Born a Dog and Died a Gentleman," and Rusty, who was a "Perfect Little Gentleman." I wonder if Sandy, who was apparently the "Best Dog in America," knew that it was actually Spot who was "Best Dog in the World."

"Our Little Sweetpea" choked me up because that's what I call Mozart on the days where I'm not annoyed with her for screaming in my face, and I totally think I would have loved Woodstock, who by definition was "one hell of a cat" and, inexplicably, "often mistaken for a meatloaf."

The countless "I Love Yous" and "Thank Yous" were undeniably sweet, but it was Yahtzee's stone with its "My Guiding Angel" inscription and photo of him with his blind master that finally broke me and caused me to shed actual tears after trying my best to hold back all day.

Hartsdale Pet Cemetery:

Part One

Hartsdale Pet Cemetery: Part One

Two weekends ago I travelled by Metro North for the first time a little ways upstate to visit America's first pet cemetery, in Hartsdale, NY. None of my friends are as interested in cemeteries as I am (unbelievable), so it was a solo adventure but I didn't mind at all. In fact, as much as I adore all of my friends and explorer companions, there are a few adventures that are better done as solo endeavors and cemeteries just happen to be at the very top of that list. Cemeteries are so peaceful and contemplative, and I don't ever expect anyone to be as fascinated or as willing to spend hours poring over old tombstones as I am.

Harstdale Canine Cemetery and Crematorium was established in 1896, when a New York City veterinarian offered to let a friend bury his dog in his apple orchard. There are more than 80,000 pets buried at Hartsdale, and not just dogs — I also saw headstones for cats, horses, rabbits, birds, and monkeys. I somehow missed the lion cub, who lived at the Plaza Hotel before coming to rest at Hartsdale, and I'm sure there are other species that aren't easily identified by their headstones.

It is the oldest operating pet cemetery in the world, and the only pet cemetery listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It's also the weirdest, saddest, funniest and most surreal place I've ever been. It was somehow exactly what I expected, yet so much more — it's kind of difficult to find words to describe how walking the grounds packed with stone after stone bearing names like "Jingles" or "Mr. Whiskers" made me feel, so it's probably just best to let the photos speak for themselves. Speaking of photos, I took so many (of course) that I will be splitting them into a few posts.

The first thing that hits you upon entering Hartsdale (besides how well-manicured the grounds are) are the names. If you missed the iron gate spelling out "Canine Cemetery," you will know as soon as you read the first tombstone that you're not in a regular "human" cemetery, but instead in a place where "Muffins" and "Buttons" are the norm. I didn't see any Mozarts (thankfully) but I did see a few "Sweet Peas," which is what I call Mozart most days, so those immediately caused me to tear up.

I noticed a lot of the classics — Fluffy, Rags, Spot, Sport, Rusty, Lucky, Sparky, Jingles, Princess and Pal, as well as a Grumpy, Lumpy, Souffle, Mignon, Fajita, Fudge, Winkie Barrymore, Mr. Thomas and (my favorite) Freckles Rutherford.

There was at least one Whiskers and one Mr. Whiskers, along with Snoopy, Woodstock, Lassie, Scooby, Petey, Morris, Bambi, Charlie (and Charlotte) Brown, Tweety, Toto, Lady AND the Tramp.

Gilmore Girls fans might understand my sadness at the Cinnamons and the Chin-Chin (no Paw Paw), and there were more than a few sequels including Muggsy I and II and Little Tinker and Tinker Too. I also paid my respects to Sam the Siamese, Jellicle Cat, Skimbleshanks, Buttons, Bows, Patches, Tinky, Toodles, Spuds, Sprouts and Fat Willie.

I even came across a simple stone with "Allie, My Love, Our Girl," which was the first time I'd ever seen my name carved into a tombstone before, so that was weird for me. I say Harstdale was a weird place because I've never been somewhere before that made me feel such conflicting emotions, and the names were a big part of that. I would be on the verge of tears, reading a super sweet epitaph and then immediately start laughing because how can you not when you pass by anything that bears the name Freckles Rutherford? It was completely disorienting in a way, but I was also grateful for the comic relief.

I have been to probably hundreds of "human" cemeteries and not once has any of them made me sad. I'm always fascinated by the history, the typography, the stories and the decay but I've never been the least bit sad or depressed being surrounded by the dead. Hartsdale was different though, in nearly every way, from any place I've ever been and it really hit me hard to be bombarded with row after row of departed animals.

Maybe it's because animals are so helpless and unconditionally lovable, or because I love Mozart like the kid I don't (or may never) have, but Hartsdale wins the distinction of being the first cemetery to actually make me cry. And then, of course, laugh because I am a human who will never not laugh at a name like Winkie Barrymore — may he rest in peace.