Parking Lot Euthanasia

A peculiar tale about a job most people don’t think about. You won’t know whether to laugh or rip out your earbuds.

Story written and narrated by: Glenn Vanderkloet

Tunes in this episode: “Hazlehurst” - Pale Cricket

“Funeral March” - Chopin

“Oh Death” - Dock Boggs

Photo Credit: “Pets Going to Heaven” - Unknown Origin

Parking Lot Euthanasia

I don't even know why I took the job thinking back on it now. I don't like heavy lifting, I do not enjoy getting filthy and smelling bad and I certainly don't like being surrounded by so much death. The job was to drive around a white, unmarked Mercedes Sprinter van delivering and picking up items along a designated route. What items you might ask? Well, I picked up deceased pets, mostly cats and dogs but also iguanas, birds, and goats from veterinary clinic freezers, transported them to a crematorium and subsequently returned their ashes in urns, pendants, paperweights and Christmas ornaments.

I suppose it was the driving aspect of the job that attracted me. You see, My partner and I had just moved to a new city in our home province of Ontario, Canada and I thought that landing a driving job would allow me to get acquainted with the geographical nuances of our new home and the surrounding area. I also have a bit of an infatuation with listening to podcasts and local radio so what better scenario for that then cruising in the Sprinter, town to town, with my not so noisy cargo.

The job requirements were few and in retrospect, a bit misleading, if not flat out omissive. Clean-ish driving record and valid license, able to lift 110 pounds, team player, and comfortable driving in inclement weather. That was about it. I do know that there was no stipulation requiring a clean criminal record because I worked with more than a few ex-convicts during my tenure.

Now before I continue, I just want to say that everything about this job and company was above board. Most of the people I worked with were pet owners and animal lovers and the bodies of the deceased pets that we brought back for cremation were always treated with the utmost dignity and respect. I always got paid on time, the vehicles were well maintained and everyone's safety and well being was prioritized. Most of the time. You get the picture. Respectable, reputable company. This does not however, preclude the fact that it was still kind of a weird, sometimes depressing job where weird and sometimes depressing shit occurred.

Most days started early, around six or seven a.m. I would arrive at the shop, park my car, and then drive my van into the loading bay where I'd pack it with that day's urns and other ash filled mementos. I would then flick on the radio, plug my first clinic's address into google maps, wonder what the hell I was doing with my life, and finally, drive off to meet the day.

I would say that about half of my shifts were tolerable. On these tolerable days, I would pick up between 25 and 35 pets, none of them would be heavier than 100 pounds, the weather would be agreeable for driving and the software on my smart phone that I used to track and identify the animals would cooperate. On a pleasant summer day with the above criteria still in place, I may even upgrade tolerable to fine. It was the other half of my shifts that made me wish I had stayed in school. On these days, I would pick up 50 + pets, seven or eight of them would be over 100 pounds and some as much as 150, there would be a blinding snowstorm or a similar Canadian winter weather scenario, and my software would crash forcing me to document my activities with pen and paper. By far the most distressing part though was the lifting. I still get flashbacks to this day when I see someone walk by with an Irish Wolfhound or a Bernese Mountain Dog.

After visiting my last clinic for the day, I would drive back to headquarters and unload, placing each pet on a designated shelf according to weight. Thankfully, my responsibilities did not include anything to do with the actual cremation process. We were also required to help other drivers unload if they arrived at a similar time. There wasn't much worse than unloading the last pet from your van and then watching a colleague pull in with a full load. After emptying the van or vans, I would go to the front office, file any paperwork I had, and shoot the breeze with the office staff until it was time to go home.

On one such day, while waiting to go home, a dishevelled looking gentleman walked into the office. He approached my manager and with some trepidation in his voice, asked if we could cremate his dog. My manager said that we could and asked him if he had his pet with him. The man went on to say that his dog was still alive and in the backseat of his car which was parked in our lot. He said that his veterinarian was with him and that they were going to euthanize the dog in our parking lot and then bring him in for cremation. The entire office staff was within earshot of the man and we were looking at each other with incredulity. My manager told him that he could not euthanize the dog in our parking lot or anywhere on our property and would have to do it offsite. The man seemed to understand, got into his car and drove away.

I'll spare you some of the details here but about an hour later, the man came back with his deceased dog in one of our cremation bags. He asked if we had any extra shirts kicking around as his had become soiled during the ordeal. We gave him a shirt, he thanked us, and then he left leaving a shocked and somewhat disgusted group of our staff in his wake.

Somehow, I managed to work there for a year and a half. It paid the bills and I did get to know my way around Southwestern Ontario. After awhile though, my back couldn't handle the lifting and I just couldn't get past some of the sights and smells. It was on to less disturbing endeavours, but there will always be things that I can't unsee.

What had started out as an innocent enough idea of getting paid to learn the geography of a new place and meet some new people ended with a chronic injury, nightmares of giant dogs, and a lesson in unconventional or more specifically, parking lot euthanasia, which I did not ask to be taught.