On Craig Road not far from our house is a pet cemetery. We had read that there is an elephant who worked in an act on the Las Vegas Strip buried there, and I wanted to look for that grave and see the place in general.

What a mistake. The moment I got out of the car, I was overcome by the biggest sadness for all the dear companions memorialized there, and couldn't stop crying as I walked around reading the markers. Some of them have photos attached, some had pictures engraved into the granite, and many of them have messages of love - "our darling Ditzy, we'll see you again some day."

The elephant's grave had a little line drawing of an elephant with "Gentle Giant" and the dates.

There is a little tiny A-frame shed with a couple of chairs and a place to rest a little casket for a few last moments together, and there are a few memorial benches scattered around. There are even a few people interred next to their pets, which cheered me up some.

"I can't stand this, it's so sad," I told Mr. Troutbend.

"Well, you wanted to come here."

"Yes, well I didn't know how it was going to be, did I?"

I can't provide a lot of detail because I didn't take photos (that tells you something about my state of mind) and there were so many stories just calling out to be shared it has all blended together.

I never felt this sentimental about the graves of the cats we buried in the yard of our old house, but their only markers were cherry trees, and that was a private thing. There is something very moving about the amount of care and love it took to leave formal memorials to dear departed friends who loved with unquestioning loyalty and faith, and the fact that it is voluntary in the case of the pets to go to all that trouble, whereas with people it is more of an obligation.

That was a couple of weeks ago, and I still get more than teary-eyed when I think about it. Now I'm ready for a job as an actress because I will be able to bring up genuine tears any time I want, just don't ask me to turn them off again once they start.