Inside the world of pet funerals

During the interview, Wang Yinghao, one of the founders of Rainbow Star, a company offering pet aftercare services, pauses mid-sentence and says, "I always talk too much."

Yet, when asked to recount a story about a cat he once rescued by chance, he says that he has lost the desire to go into detail about such stories. "Talking about them in the media doesn't help those poor animals; instead, it feels like exploiting their misfortune."

On a cold wintry day in early 2024, an orange-and-white, long-haired cat named Fuda — meaning "fortunate one" — was found lying motionless in a patch of greenery after being hit by a car. However, Wang, who had been called to take the apparently dead cat for cremation as part of his company's nonprofit program "The Last Day Parent", discovered the cat was still alive. He documented the rescue and shared it on social media, gaining many followers on the social media platform Xiaohongshu.

"It was a pretty popular video back then, and my follower count jumped to 14,000. However, it plateaued because I don't post very often," he explains, saying that he does not really care about internet "traffic".

Wang, a 30-year-old from Danyang, Jiangsu province, originally studied furniture design at university. Raised in a home with limited natural light, he believed better-designed furniture could improve the home's atmosphere.

After graduating, he worked as a furniture designer but soon realized he lacked both the talent and passion to stay in the profession. Additionally, the salary provided little motivation. He relocated from Zhejiang to Beijing with his pet cat, continuing to work in design for another year, until a news story on pet aftercare services profoundly changed his life.

"It seemed to be meaningful work if I could help pet owners who had lost their beloved animals by organizing comforting memorial services," he says.

Without much hesitation or research, he quit his job. After spending a month as an intern at a pet aftercare company learning everything he could, he started to look for premises in 2020 from which he could start his own business.

Eventually, Wang and his cofounders rented a space in Baiziwan, Beijing's Chaoyang district.

The aftercare services are essentially divided into three key parts: washing deceased pets, conducting farewell ceremonies, and handling cremation. Wang's background as a designer significantly influenced the atmosphere and design of the facility.

During his research before launching the business, he found many farewell ceremonies to be "unbearable".

He remembers farewell rooms adorned with mismatched religious symbols, including statues of Kshitigarbha, the King of the Inferno, crucifixes, and figurines of Jesus Christ. Tables where the deceased pets were to be placed were often decorated with gaudy, artificial flowers.

The height of the tables was also problematic. When it comes to farewells, people typically stand in front of the table, but if it is the standard 75 centimeters in height, they have to bend to touch, hug, or kiss their pets.

"It's an exhausting gesture during such a painful time," Wang says, adding that he has back pain himself.

Therefore, Wang set out to create a more comforting environment, one that resembled the kind of place he would want when saying goodbye to his own cats in the future. At the same time, he placed a strong emphasis on practicality and user experience, striving to make the process less physically taxing.

Wang says that many people would leave in tears, clutching a jar of ashes, which deeply saddened him. In response, he and his cofounders established a prayer hall where people could linger and express wishes for their departed pets.

"For me, the store is designed with two main considerations," Wang says. "One is for the pets, ensuring they leave with dignity by being washed and placed in a nice room. The other is for the people, similar to human funerals, where many elements are for the living. These rituals help people accept the reality of parting and help them move on with their lives."

In its first year, the company received about 700 orders, and after they relocated to another location in Dongba, Chaoyang district, the number tripled, so much so that they had to open a second, two-story branch of the company.

Some 20 kilometers from downtown Beijing, the new branch of Rainbow Star, covering 700 square meters, similar to the one in Dongba, sits quietly in a cultural and creative park in the east of the capital.

On a warm spring morning, gentle music wafts from within the building, where a soothing palette of warm yellow envelops the space in brightness. Near the entrance, a wall displays photos of cats and dogs that have died, each capturing a moment of vibrant life and endearing charm.

In the expansive and immaculate hall stand several display cases, showcasing a collection of pet funeral products and memorial keepsakes. Among them are urns in various colors, shapes, and sizes, frames preserving pet paw prints, diamonds formed from pet ashes, and pendants embedded with strands of pet fur.

In the farewell room, a long, well-lit niche is built into the wall. Inside, a model of a lush green hill is adorned with cotton clouds and miniatures of pine cones, a candy-colored cottage, scattered yellow stars and white running animals. At the front, a small rainbow marks the place known as Rainbow Star, where pets reside after passing.

In the center of the niche, an empty photo frame awaits pictures of beloved pets. In front of it, a table holds pens, animal stickers, and a box of tissues. Wang opens a loose-leaf notebook and explains, "Here, owners can write their memories and thoughts about their departed animals."

At Rainbow Star, a typical funeral lasts around two hours, though some pet owners choose to stay much longer, with some even spending the night.

In this somber setting, Wang has witnessed countless touching moments showing people's profound love for their pets, whether they are expensive purebred cats and dogs, adopted strays, or other animals like pet snakes and hamsters.

Meanwhile, he has also noticed some changes.

In the past, many people, especially young adults and the elderly, would visit the store alone. In the past two years, however, more people have been coming with friends or colleagues. "People seem more willing to seek support during such difficult times," he suggests.

Another shift is that more families are bringing young children and elderly parents to pet funerals. Wang now frequently sees entire families — great-grandparents, grandparents, parents, and even babies — attending these send-offs.

Many Chinese people may struggle with explaining death to their children, who often demonstrate a surprisingly mature understanding of the concept.

One elementary school boy left a note to his deceased pet chicken, Gugu.

He wrote, "Gugu, thank you for keeping me company during these days. Although our time together was short, it was filled with happiness. Since you were sick and even the doctor couldn't help, I brought you plenty of millet today as provisions for your journey. Keep your wisdom and embark on your adventure in another world! I hope in that world, you won't be confined to a cage anymore and can run freely. If you can fly, that would be even better!" Signed, your human friend, Lin Xiaoyan.

"It seems like the death of a pet is no longer a taboo for them," Wang says.

With the rise of social media, a growing number of individuals are sharing their pets' funerals online and expressing their emotions about the loss. Many also seek advice online on how to cope with their grief.

"It's a very positive trend," Wang says.

Earlier this year, Wang's book, As a Pet Mortician, was published by Guangxi Normal University Press, based on his observations over the past six years.

"The pet economy has grown significantly. An editor saw my posts on social media and asked if I would be interested in writing a book. Over the years, I've gathered many stories that I haven't had the chance to share. Creating short videos often doesn't allow me to explore the depth I aim for, so I agreed," he says.

"I have seen every kind of sorrow; the struggles of elderly residents, migrant workers and people from all walks of life. If I don't tell their stories, they will disappear without a trace, and forgetting is the true start of death."

After six years in the industry, Wang occasionally feels a sense of helplessness as he realizes that real grief starts when funerals end. To help owners cope, Rainbow Star now provides a set of cards offering practical advice for the days that follow the funeral.

Looking ahead, Wang plans to study trauma, bereavement and emotional healing.

"Talking with people is important," he says, "but it would be better if we could provide different perspectives and advice that can help people manage their grief and loss."

In the preface to Wang's book, former television host Zhang Yue writes: "Yinghao and his colleagues chose this profession and have documented their experiences. The warmth and coldness of human nature, and the joys and sorrows of the world that they encounter along the way, have become both their trials and their rewards. Facing death allows one to better understand how to live, and helping others face death with dignity is a valuable endeavor."