Lola, a female Pit Bull, belonged to the 32-year-old deceased son of a family I was serving. The family asked if we were pet‑friendly, and of course we are. So Lola came to the wake and stayed the entire time, quiet and steady, as if keeping vigil.
The next morning, we were heading to the crematory at Green‑Wood. The mother and brother of the deceased rode with me in the hearse (my hearse has bench seats). The only question was: Where should Lola go? We settled her in the back, and she curled up next to the casket without a sound.
At Green‑Wood, the guard met us at the gate for check‑in. Lola lifted her head and peeked curiously out the window. The guard smiled, but wasn’t surprised knowing me. That’s when I took this photo. It struck me as something rare: a dog accompanying her family to the crematory.
People were already gathered when we arrived. We got Lola out of the hearse and the family brought her into the crematory. A podcast crew happened to be filming that day. The young woman behind the camera, then turned to me and asked if she could ask a few questions.
“What’s the most unusual funeral you’ve ever done?” she asked.
I showed her the photo of Lola in the back of the hearse, and said, “we’re doing one now.” She loved the image — said she’d never seen anything like it. Later, I framed the photo and hung it in the alcove of one of my chapels, as a reminder of how grief expands to include every member of a family, even the four‑legged ones.
The Morte Girls 