The Mummy

When I die, I'd like to be buried in dirt without a box. I would like nature to take its course, and turn my body into mulch for a nice tree or maybe a shrubbery. Admittedly, that option is not for everyone.

One of the oldest options for those afraid to be eaten by worms is mummification. The sacred ritual of having one's body turned into jerky for all of eternity, once popular with pharos, is now all-the-rage amongst the Botox set.

That’s right, mummification. A little start up called Summum is now offering modern mummification to those who wish to completely blow what little inheritance they had stored up for their children, before they die.

For the right price, the entire family can be stuffed and mounted. And, when I say the whole family, I mean everyone, even the guinea pig.

So, that leads me to wonder about my own family, and especially my dog, Strider. (I just can’t carry the fantasy far enough to include the aquarium fish...) As you all know, Strider is a lover, not a fighter. I mean, he will track and destroy moths and mosquitoes, but when it comes to intruders, he’s all licking and tail wagging.

So, let’s say I were to drink some low-quality bathtub mescal, and decide to blow the howler monkey’s college education fund on mummifying the dog; just what sort of pose should I choose? I mean this is a life-long decision. This is a decision that will outlive me, since the mummy may be around into the next millennia.

Should he be posed in a state of fright with a squeeze-toy in his mouth? Should he be posed, gnawing through a bovine-phallus-sized rawhide bone? No. No, there is only one pose that will forever capture the spirit of Strider after he has crossed over…

If I ever decide to mummify my dog, I will have him posed, humping a Mormon.

Curse of the mummy, indeed!