A final farewell for furry friends

In 2019, when Wang Yinghao decided to resign from his job as a furniture designer to become a pet mortician, his boss was shocked.

The existence of such morticians, who provide services related to pet deaths, only really gained widespread attention in December after two celebrities experienced the work as part of a reality TV show.

The occupation is new, so when Wang entered the profession, neither his parents nor his boss understood his motivation.

The 26-year-old decided to change careers after reading an article that detailed the process of pet funerals, illustrated by a photo of a man hugging his deceased golden retriever.

The image hit Wang hard as it reminded him of Xiaohua, a pet dog he had as a child. Wang was brought up in rural Jiangsu province, and Xiaohua accompanied him throughout his years at primary school.

One day, Wang's grandmother told him that Xiaohua had bitten someone, so the dog would have to be euthanized as a form of apology to the injured person.

"I wanted to save her, but I was scared. I was so little," he recalled.

Xiaohua was euthanized and Wang never learned what happened to her body. Guilt crept up on him when he read the article and made him determined to help others give their furry friends a proper farewell.

"I have pet cats, so I think from a pet owner's point of view. When my cats die, I certainly don't want them to be taken to a place that's cold and uncomfortable," he said.

Wang quit his designer job and contacted the few providers of pet cremation services in Beijing, expressing a wish to learn from them.

Most rebutted his approach, but one introduced him to Lin Junguang, who had some experience as a pet mortician. The two young men decided to open their funeral home, Rainbow Planet, in the capital.

Light walls, wind chimes

Wang designed the facility himself. Wanting the place to be a warmhearted home rather than a cold mortuary, he painted the walls light yellow and hung a string of wind chimes along the eaves.

Rainbow Planet opened in December 2019. By the end of last month, it had held 1,900 animal funerals, and in addition to cats and dogs, it has provided services for hamsters, parrots, rabbits, lizards, frogs and fish.

When the owner brings a deceased pet to the home, Wang cleans the body, then places it on a small bed in the "farewell room" so the owner can say a last goodbye before the corpse is sent for cremation on the outskirts of Beijing.

If owners wish to collect the ashes on the spot, they can sit in a waiting room and watch the cremation live on closed circuit television.

The entire service costs about 1,200 yuan ($188). Owners can also customize ashes keepsakes, with prices ranging from a few hundred yuan to more than 10,000, while a single cremation service costs 600.

Rainbow Planet also has a special memorial room with compartmented shelves running along three walls. Owners can rent a compartment to display their pet's urn and visit regularly to remember their friend.

Many of the compartments are already occupied. Each has been decorated by the owner with snacks, toys and flowers their pet loved.

Wang remembers the first pet body he handled. It was an Old English sheepdog. She was old and a bit dirty, and her head fur was tied into a pigtail and held by a bow.

"I thought I would be scared. I dared not kill a rat when I was little, and I had always been afraid of handling raw meat when cooking. But when I met the sheepdog, I felt a very sacred sense of responsibility," he said. "The owner handed her over to me, and I had to be responsible for her and clean her up."

In the main hall, Wang has set up a photo wall in memory of many of the animals. He remembers lots of the stories about them because he regards the tales as being even more important than rituals.

Whenever a pet owner arrives, Wang chats with him or her before beginning the cleanup work.

Relieving sorrow

Prior to becoming a pet mortician, Wang pictured himself as a therapist, talking his customers out of their sorrow.

He read many books about psychology and communication, and watched animal movies in an attempt to try to better understand the bond between pets and their owners.

When he started receiving customers, he found that communication came very naturally.

"I just asked something like 'How old was XXX?' or 'Did XXX die from sickness?', and the owners were willing to share lots of stories," he said.

He feels that this step is essential because it's not only a way to help owners release their emotions but also enables Wang to make a "connection" with the dead animal.

"Once the owner has spoken with me about the pet when he or she was alive and showed me some photos or videos, I can connect the dead body with the original vibrant form when I clean up the remains. This gives me a wide range of emotions when treating the body, not just sadness," he said.

Wang has recorded all the stories, and he plans to publish them in a book and also make a short documentary. "I want to send a warm, positive message that those who have lost their pets are not alone," he said.

As the industry is still relatively new, many people have never heard of the service, so customer numbers are still very unstable, ranging from two to three on a good day to none at all. According to Wang, many owners never imagine that their pets will leave them one day, so they often feel lost and unprepared when that day finally arrives.

"It is usually when their pet dies and they start looking for a cremation service that they discover us," he said.

However, he is confident that the sector will gain more recognition in the future as the number of pets continues to rise and the domestic market keeps expanding.

"In our (Chinese) culture, there's not enough education about death. I want to make an effort to 'educate' people about the fact that their pets will die, and that it is important to cherish the time we spend together, but to also be prepared for their demise," he said.