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Press Release
A Paw Print In Heaven L.L.C
P.O Box 5117 Baltimore. Maryland. 21224
(443)-278-5502
Business offers aid and comfort to grieving pet owners
“It’s My Job” is an occasional feature highlighting individuals in the area with
interesting or unique jobs. Have a suggestion for a future It’s My Job feature? E-
mail newsroom@baltimoreguide.com.
by Mary Helen Sprecher
newsroom@baltimoreguide.com
Every budding entrepreneur remembers his or her a-ha moment—that exact point when the light bulb clicks on
and he or she realizes that the perfect opportunity has presented itself. For Zoey Robinson, though, the a-ha
moment was less of a light bulb and more of a dark night of the soul.
It was the night her cat was struck and killed by a car. And Robinson couldn’t find a single person to talk to. It
was just, ‘Well, it costs this much’ and ‘You can bring your cat here or we’ll come get it,’ but nobody ever said
they were sorry about what happened, or that they sympathized. I don’t think I ever heard someone say they
were sorry.”


Robinson, age 23, a certified cremation technician who manages Bayview Crematory located on O’Donnell
Street, could not help but be struck by the injustice of it all. As a worker in the industry, she had an appreciation
for the importance of a sympathetic ear and a quick response to the questions and needs of those in grief. Pet
owners, she thought, should be accorded the same respect as those who were grieving a human loss.

She thought about some of the pet cremations she had heard about. In many cases, veterinarians had standing
arrangements with animal crematories. Once a week, the crematories would send a representative to pick up
animals’ bodies from the veterinary hospital, take them back to their facility and perform cremation, then bring
the ashes back to the veterinary office the following week when they made their rounds again. In her estimation,
it took far too long and “there was a much more room for human error. Not only that, but there was no way for
you to go to the facility.”
And that started her thinking. What if there were a 24-hour number someone could call in the event of the loss of
a pet? What if the person on the other end of the line would listen to you, sympathize with you and present your
options? And what if there were a service that would come out and pick up an animal, perform cremation and
then deliver the ashes back to the owner within a day or two?
In fact, why wasn’t there something like that already?
A-ha.
Bayview Crematory, which had been considering acquiring two retorts, or new cremation units—one for human
remains and coincidentally, one for animal remains—supported Robinson’s idea, and a new business —A Paw
Print In Heaven, LLC—was born. Robinson printed up business cards and started an advertising campaign. And
these days, she’s keeping busy.
“When I get a call, I talk to the person and I find out what’s going on—what kind of pet it was, what happened,
how they are doing, where they are.”
Robinson makes it clear to pet owners that she is sympathetic to their loss because “you have to understand
that the pet is a family member. Sometimes what they need is someone to listen to them cry.”
She explains her company’s services to the owner and lets them choose how they want to proceed.
“Then I can go over there and pick up the animal, either at the owner’s house or at the vet’s office, and we fill out
the paperwork.”
Paperwork includes not only what is known as an intake sheet, which includes all necessary information on the
pet and owner, but two identical identification tags. One tag stays with the owner, and one tag goes on the
animal itself. The animal is placed in a corrugated cardboard casket, and taken back to the crematory premises.
“As soon as I get back here, I call the owner just to let them know I’m here and the pet’s here.”
In her work, Robinson has gone around the state—as far as Frederick, to date—to pick up animals from grieving
owners.
The animal is cremated almost immediately upon arrival, and the ashes put into a wooden urn, which is returned
to the owner, along with the I.D. tag that matches the one the owner is still holding.
The knowledge that the ashes in the urn are indeed those of the deceased pet has become a prime concern to
many owners. Many have heard horror stories, such as the 2004 legal case brought by nearly 1,700 families
against a Georgia crematory that failed to cremate bodies, and returned cement dust rather than ashes to family
members after charging them fees for crematory services.
“That sort of thing is just horrible,” said Robinson, “and I do think people are distrustful. They’ve had reason to
be.”
For those who want to be absolutely sure of the process, Robinson helped design Paw Print to offer what is
known as viewable cremation. Pet owners can come to the facility and from an ultramodern furnished waiting
room, watch through a window as their pet’s casket is placed in the crematory unit, and receive the ashes in a
wooden urn shortly afterward.
“It’s an open-door policy,” said Robinson, who says about 50 per cent of all pet owners opt for viewable
cremation. (It is a service that is offered for deceased pets, but not for humans).
Some pet owners embrace the idea of being present for cremation, she added, and some are more hesitant.
“I have people say, ‘I don’t really want to be here, but I feel like I should be here.’”
For those people, the window to the crematory has a Venetian blind, which can be lowered.
Whether an owner decides to follow the pet through the process, she added, is a personal choice, and not a
measure of devotion.
“I just think that it empowers people to be able to make these decisions, whichever decisions they are. It used to
be that you would leave the pet at your vet’s and that was that. You didn’t really have closure.”
But as the pet industry continues to expand, offering services that mirror those for humans—pet day care,
canine summer camps, animal physical therapy/fitness programs and ‘pupperware parties’ (sales parties for pet-
related products)—he pet mortuary industry is closing the gap as well.
“We supply keepsake urns and garden memorials,” said Robinson, “and we do encourage people who are
grieving to hold some kind of little memorial for their pet.”
Whether an owner prefers to sit alone and think about the pet and look at photos, or whether the family gathers
to read poetry or prayers, or to remember the good times with the animal, said Robinson, it is bringing closure
that is important.
Bayview Crematory and its associated cemeteries do not offer burial plots for pets, although Robinson said she
is able to provide pet owners with information on pet cemeteries, should they wish to inter the cremains. Most
owners prefer to keep the urn at home.
The one remaining barrier in the industry, she said, is the idea that it is not valid to grieve for an animal, or that
true sadness should be reserved for human death.
“What really breaks my heart is when people say, ‘I feel so silly about this’ or ‘I shouldn’t feel like this because it’s
only a cat,’ or ‘because it’s only a dog.’ But that pet has been in your life for maybe 18 years. A lot of
relationships don’t last that long. I feel horrible that people feel it’s silly or that it’s wrong to be sad about this.
Grief is a perfectly normal process. You should never feel bad about the way you feel. People need to know
that.”
Occasionally, said Robinson, someone will ask what she does for a living, and she’ll tell them—and will get the
knee-jerk reaction. After all, her job description—managing a crematory and owning a mobile, 24-hour pet
cremation service and hotline—is not exactly what one might expect, and particularly not from a twenty-
something mother of two.
“Sometimes someone will say, ‘Oh, that’s disgusting,’ but really, it does take a certain kind of person to work in
this industry, and to be able to handle people grieving, whether it’s for their mother or their pet. Every day, you’
re faced with mortality. You have to be able to work with people and understand them.”
As if on cue, the phone rings, and Robinson picks it up with the words, “Pet cremation.” She greets the caller,
then listens intently. She gasps—a long, drawn-in sigh that speaks volumes of empathy and shared pain.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she says. “I know. Oh, I’m sorry. Well, let me tell you what we can do.”
Note: A Paw Print In Heaven can be reached at 443-278-5502, or on the web at www.APawPrintInHeaven.com.