He soon realised that it was very difficult to get work from franchised vets as they often already have an assigned pet crematorium t hat usually chooses mass cremation. He researched the market and found that his most reliable customers were likely to be independent vets and he had the opportunity to expand into individual cremations as the popularity of pet cremation developed. An cremator is needed Mr Bolton, the owner of Treasured Friends, decided that he wanted to go into pet cremation over 8 years ago. 8 years on, the owner now employs 2 full-time and 2 part-time staff. Client Overview Treasured Friends is a family run business and one of Addfield’s oldest customers who still have the same pet cremator bought when establishing the company. One is silver, and the other gold.8 Years of Treasured Friends Treasured Friends has been a customer of Addfield’s for the past 8 years so we have been able to see his business grow whilst he has informed us of the best practices for a pet crematorium. However, I was greatly comforted by knowing I’ll be able to say hello to them all again and again each time I visit. As he pulled away, I bowed my head, placed a hand over my heart, and mouthed a sad goodbye to those treasured old friends. It took some further explaining, naturally, but he came by the next time he was heading north, and we loaded the cartons into his SUV. “They’d love to come and stay at the lake, and I know you’ll like them.” “How’d you like to meet some new friends?” I asked him. Solitary pursuits are the order of the day in his idyllic retreat, and I gave him a call. An old pal of mine owns a cottage near Parry Sound, one unencumbered by the modern notion that such getaways must have access to the internet, telephones, and television. But I, despite my earlier resolve, was plagued by a great sense of loss, a sense of having betrayed a trust, a sense of abandoning something that had become a part of me.Īnd so, they sat for awhile-those cartons echoing with silent, accusatory voices of so many old friends-awaiting my decision as to their fate.Īfter several restless nights, plagued by remorse, I hit upon an idea. Ten cardboard cartons, each the repository of hundreds of hours of private enjoyment, sat waiting for me to take them to the bookstore. I’ve never been resolute about being resolute!Īnyway, in due course, I was finished. Inevitably, however, there were some I had to keep (including the eight I’ve published, of course). I had determined to be ruthless in my sorting, adamant about packing everything, unyielding in my determination to move all of them out. There were titles of a more recent vintage, too: thrillers from such writers as Elmore Leonard, James Lee Burke, Michael Connelly, John Sandford, and Lee Child more biographies of famous and infamous people-Ghandi, Mandela, Stalin, Mao Zedong, Jimmy Carter, Terry Fox histories of significant events in my lifetime, dealing with the aftermath of the Great War, the great depression, the fall of Soviet communism, the rise of the Beatles, and the future impacts of technology. There was a boxed set of Tolkien’s epic trilogy, Lord of the Rings, a gift from my brother in 1960 a biography of John Kennedy and a copy of the Warren Commission Report of 1965, when the shooting in Dallas was still a recent shock several novels in a series about a modern-day knight-errant named Travis McGee-the first purchased in 1966 and its successors as each was subsequently published a number of biographical works from the late 1970’s about such notables as Churchill, MacArthur, Lee and Jackson, and Trudeau (the elder) a Civil War story, After the Glory, perhaps my favourite novel and, of course, dozens of others. How delightful it was to browse them once again, as I sorted, lingering over memories associated with those many years. I had acquired the habit years ago of writing my name and the year when the book came into my possession on the inside front cover of each one I read. So, over a number of weeks, I carried out the task of sorting and packing more than three hundred-and-eighty books. Somehow, though, it seemed alright to pass them along to others who would enjoy them as I had. But, as we downsized to a smaller home, the day arrived when there was just no more room.īeing one to whom books are almost living things, I couldn’t bear the thought of packing them away in musty cartons for storage, out of sight and soon forgotten. They’ve all been read once-some much more often-and those I wanted to keep were placed lovingly in one of several bookcases. Like you, perhaps, I have purchased a large number of books over the years, both hard- and soft-cover varieties. I learned that a local bookstore owner would pay me fifty cents a copy for all my old books, which he would then re-sell to his customers to realize a small profit. I bade a sad farewell to some treasured old friends a little while ago.
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