Chester minute

A very poor pun to open a very sad blog. We have to spread Chester the wonderhounds ashes to the four winds this weekend and I am not sure where he should go. He arrived back in a small pine box with a brass plate. I thought we may have to bury the whole thing but we, in the midst of moving house, are concious that a shrine to Chester in our current location may not retain the level of respect he deserves when we are gone. We have agreed as a team that he shouldn't stay in a box for ever but should be freed.

His favourite place was the river so it seems likely a burial at sea ( well in the two foot stream) will have to be conducted.

What do you do, do you take him in a bag and unceremoniously dump him, fiddling and trying to get the bits out of the corners, or do we need an ethereal ball from which his ashes gently smoke as we swing it? I have in mind one of those incense balls like the monks in the Da Vinci Code.

Sun rise or sun-set, music or chanting, or perhaps something Chester would understand, put him in the tennis ball chucker thing and launch him down the river followed by a few dog biscuits. The latter is probably the best solution. So chow chow to Chester on Sunday. Whoosh!

The river in question is of course a chalk spring that feeds the local drinking water supply, trout lakes and watercress beds. No doubt there are rules and regs about disposal of much loved pets in said waterways, you probably have to buy a licence. Just a warning then, don't eat farmed trout this weekend, especially not with a watercress sause.