Today Nicci and I ventured out on our respective off-days to a local attraction that was recommended by the Weird California website: The LA Pet Cemetery. Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, I do not “get off” on morbid stuff like dead animals. In fact, today’s short trip was something of a learning experience for me. You see, my sister called me crying yesterday because our dog Sprocket was losing his fight against an internal infection that is causing his kidneys or liver to fail. Today she sent me a text message saying our dog is not responding to the risky treatment he began yesterday, and if there is no improvement by tomorrow, my family will have to face a very difficult and very sad decision. So today’s visit to the pet cemetery was intended, in part, to gain a better sense of animal mortality. You see, I’ve still never gotten over the death of my old dog, and I still cry every time I watch the Futurama episode about Fry’s dog. So, yeah, the pet cemetery was my way of accepting another family dog’s death. Also, I was hoping to see some really funny headstones. I heard there were horses and even a lion buried at the LA Pet Park! How cool is that? Check out these pictures.
The parking lot outside the memorial park is sparse. There are only five or six spots available. There were absolutely no signs of life inside the park (unintentional pun alert!), as we were the only two visitors walking around. I didn’t even see any workers or gravediggers or anything mulling about, but there was definitely free WiFi available somewhere, because my phone picked it up easily.
It’s a pretty park, with lots of trees and flowers, and also many, many dead animals. There was Butch the Jewish dog, Tiger the “very special cat” (check out the length of that epitaph!), Ackerman (the Lee Harvey Oswald of the LA Pet Park), JR (I’m sorry, I had to take that picture), Samson and Delilah, another Tiger (who apparently loved 3 Musketeers even though chocolate kills dogs), Tikitta and Peppy, МҮРЗИ (Moorzee in Russian), Heidi and Heidi II, and my personal favorite, Blart.
Blart!
There’s a mausoleum inside the memorial park, where those pets who feel too dignified to be buried in dirt can rest above ground in a sorrowful little room amongst many other fancy-pants animals who didn’t quite want to be cremated, but also didn’t quite want to be consumed by worms and maggots. All the windows are stained glass. Outside there is a small fountain and a walkway made up of bricks laid in tribute to lost pets, and maybe one lost son?
Upon leaving the mausoleum, we were privy to a whole bunch of exciting discoveries. First, there was a series of horses. Did you know that Hopalong Cassidy’s horse is buried at the park? I’ll bet you didn’t know that Rudolph Valentino’s great dane Kabar is buried there, either. Kabar haunts the grounds, supposedly. Also, at the precise moment of Valentino’s death (3,000 miles away in New York), the dog let out such an unearthly howl that Beatrice Lillie, who was driving past the estate, heard it and almost drove off the road. Steven Spielberg’s Jack Russell is there too, and possibly Petey from the Little Rascals!
Tawny, an old MGM lion, is also buried there. With a headstone fit for a jungle king. Perhaps more famous than Tawny and even Kabar, is Room 8. For those of you who don’t know about Room 8, you should check out the Wikipedia entry for the cat whose obituary in the Los Angeles Times rivaled that of several world leaders. Having lived just down the street from the school where Room 8 used to live, I was amazed I didn’t pick up on who exactly the cat was until my roommate informed me just a few minutes ago. It was pretty hilarious to find out Room 8 is buried in the pet cemetery too.
Upon leaving the park, we revisited the Weird California website and noticed that we were just a few miles away from Fry’s Electronics, which is under constant alien invasion. The whole place is made to look like a goofy ’50s alien movie, with a UFO crashing through the front door and giant space octopus attacking the home computer section. The tall silver alien from The Day The Earth Stood Still is there, carrying an unconscious blonde woman in his arms. In the rear of the building is the Atomic Cafe, complete with old cars for tables a la Jack Rabbit Slims from Pulp Fiction. What a weird place.
From Fry’s, we drove back to my apartment, where Nicci napped and I listened to records. Then I met Phoebe for dinner at Qdoba, and now I’m writing this entry. I’ll leave you with a few more pictures from today’s festivities.
Notice how the Rofle family got progressively worse at raising pets. The first pet lived to the ripe old age of twelve, and the last ones died at the ages of two and four. Those people shouldn’t be allowed to care for any more animals.
