So we discovered that the dearly loved, but nearly neglected bearded dragon, coincidentally called Beardie, died yesterday. We discovered it yesterday... but he could have been dead for weeks...like I said, he hasn't been getting a lot of attention lately.
Last time, we dug a little grave in my flower bed and had a little ceremony. We sang a few songs and said a few words.
When Beardie 1 died (yes, we named Beardie 2 the same name...in a very non-creative moment) everyone cried and sobbed over him. Jack listened to Pink Floyd's "Wish you were here" on repeat until I thought I was going to scream. Justine kept crying and crying, saying over and over, "It's all my fault." I'm not sure what she thinks she did.
With this latest death, we opted for the economy funeral because quite frankly, we are too busy, it is too cold, the ground is too hard to dig any graves, and he was beginning to stink. So Jeff gently placed him in a container in the trash. After my disgusting post with pictures of rotting food, I will spare you the picture of Beardie's last moments.
We tried to keep things a little more low key. Of course Justine kept going on and on and on about how Beardie was up in heaven with the Father above. If she said it once, she said it a million times. She even wrote a song about it.
When Jeff asked her to tell Jack where Beardie was, clearly his attempt at making him feel better... she replied, "Oh, he's in the trash can."