In the late nineties I was asked by friends on the north coast to bury their family dog Kruger in a Buddhist ceremony.
Back in the '80s, I was walking beside the River Bann close to an ancient site named Mountsandel. A beautiful large black hound appeared bringing me the gift of a stick to throw for him. As I wrestled with him to get the stick, above me on the upper lane I heard a giggle coming from the owner of the dog. "He likes you," she said. From that small encounter, the dog's owner, Joyce, became a very good friend of mine. There was something magical about Kruger and very soon after that first meeting, I was invited to walk him any time I wanted.
He preached up in Derry and Raphoe and brought me with him some Sundays to his service and introduced me to the congregation as a follower of the "Lord Buddha". After his service I would be quizzed by the parishioners about Zen and, as they called him, Lord Buddha.
Joyce lived with her parents in a wonderful house that was named Halothane. Her father, Dr Arthur Kerr, hailed from Dublin. He was a retired consultant from the local hospital, a minister for the Church of Ireland and an accomplished pianist who had a classical radio programme on RTÉ. Her mother, June, also a Dub, was involved in great charity work. Both parents have now passed.
The Kerrs always welcomed me into their home when I called to take Kruger out for a walk and it was through their family dog that they got to know me: a Buddhist Taig from Twinbrook.
Back then I had a great love for poetry, especially WB Yeats and all things Yeats – his poetry, his life and his love for Celtic myth and legend. Mrs Kerr had asked me to recite poetry on my visits to their beautiful home and Dr Kerr was fascinated by my love of Zen. He preached up in Derry and Raphoe and brought me with him some Sundays to his service and introduced me to the congregation as a follower of the "Lord Buddha". After his service I would be quizzed by the parishioners about Zen and, as they called him, Lord Buddha.
I was always impressed by their non-threatening non-judgemental, healthy curiosity.
A few years later I got the sad news that poor Kruger died and that his body was being cremated. I was asked by the family if, as a Buddhist, I would perform a ceremony for Kruger. I was honoured and I told them that I would. They had amazing grounds around their home and I asked if they would purchase a young oak tree for Kruger's burial site.
I arrived at their home and in their main room they had his ashes in a box and surrounding the box were pictures of Kruger and a variety of his toys and sticks that he used to play with.
FETCH: Frank with Kruger
Other family members and local neighbours had also arrived for this service. The Kerrs had also laid on a small banquet for afters. All eyes were now on me as I performed the burial service. I held his ashes in my hands as I spoke of his contribution to all who knew him, the love, the laughter he brought to many people, including me. I passed the box of ashes to the family who each told a personal story about Kruger. We then walked in a procession with me carrying his ashes to the burial site under the oak tree. I said a few words about this wonderful sentient being named Kruger. Then we buried his ashes under the oak, which, I may add, is some size today.
After returning into the house and enjoying the banquet and craic, I had to bid farewell and take my leave. On my exit from the house one of the mourners came to me at my car and asked if I did many services for animals. I told him that unfortunately I couldn’t talk about that now as I was in a hurry to do a big job. He asked what that was was and I told him laughing that I had to bury an elephant at the zoo.
Joyce is still in regular contact with me and she always reminds me with a smile on her face how everyone talked about me and the big job.
