Ruminations (I Wouldn’t Mind Being Buried In This Pet Cemetery)
I’ve been thinking about the Boulder City Pet Cemetery a lot lately. I recently read an article about the cemetery’s uncertain future in the face of big solar. Inspired by the article, I focused my final broadcast assignment on the story for one of my journalism classes.
Two men, Marwood Doud and Emory Lockette, were the supposed co-founders of the cemetery. Doud’s name lives rent-free in my head. So much so, that I’ve incorporated it into several (failed) music projects and a paranormal podcast title. Cue scene: a bed of eerie, staticky music; a narrator doing their best Vincent Price impersonation: “You are now listening to the Marwood Doud Tapes mwahahaha…” Can you picture it?
My reason for wondering about the old place from time to time is simple. I think of the Boulder City Pet Cemetery – sometimes called – the Eldorado Valley Pet Cemetery, Searchlight Road Pet Cemetery – and you guessed it – the Marwood Doud Pet Cemetery, because it’s just one of those places that deserves to be thought about. It’s truly a labor of love, exceeding all expectations that one could have.
Finding the Pet Cemetery
For curious readers, allow me to take you back in time for a moment. It’s the summer of 2016 and I had just moved my family to Las Vegas. Using one of my hobbies, film photography, I embraced my new habitat and set out to find and photograph some of Las Vegas’ more obscure attractions. A few Google searches later and, voila, I found what I was looking for.
Far removed from zombie children and thick Maine accents, nestled on the I-95 between Searchlight and Boulder City, is by far – in my humble opinion – one of the coolest cemeteries ever.
First Time Jitters
Guests to the cemetery are greeted with a sign prohibiting the burial of pets. Beyond the neighboring solar fields, there is no gate or office, no visitor check-in, or no – well anything at all, for miles and miles. On my first visit, I didn’t really know what I was in for. A few discarded beer bottles led the way, signs of celebration and grief. At least I knew I was heading in the right direction.
After scaling a rather small fence, the first thing you come upon is the older portion of the cemetery – a tightly packed meadow of broken wood, toppled crosses, and stone remnants. Here, the gravestones are hard to make out, yet the faint outline of impeccable handwriting lets you know they’re old. Really old.
However, there are some legible memorials among the debris. There’s Honey Hilton, who was taken far too soon and “loved.” Chilli’s stone marker has a broken Dalmatian toy superimposed on it. And with a little luck, you may stumble on the still-shiny, marble headstone of Ruff Banks, “The Beloved Pet of Bob & Janice.”
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Lockette and Doud’s Pet Cemetery
The cemetery’s history is as mysterious as one would expect from a randomly placed pet cemetery in the middle of nowhere. Different websites offer varying accounts of when exactly the cemetery was created. One of the most comprehensive write-ups comes from bouldercitypetcemetery.org. That’s right. The cemetery has its own fan-made website (Thank you Ryan for hosting some of my shots).
“It’s rumored that people started burying their pets in this surprisingly expansive area of the Nevada desert as early as the 1930s. Others indicate the burials began with a man named Emory Lockette in the late 1950s. Lockette was looking to make a little money and did so by offering plots of land in the desert,” according to the site.
That’s when Marwood Doud enters the story. The gist of it is, that Lockette and Doud held unregulated pet burials on federally owned land, with Doud acting as an unlicensed veterinarian and Lockette an undertaker. Their involvement began in the 1950s, although some websites suggest that interments at the cemetery predate Lockette and Doud entirely.
One forum even goes so far as to suggest that the burials started during the construction of the Hoover Dam when Boulder City was a “Ragtown.” More information on Doud, as well as Emory Lockette, can be found here.
Keep Going
As you continue past the older section of the cemetery, you start to notice the gravesites becoming more spaced out. This is not a sign that it’s waning. The back half of the cemetery holds some of the more elaborate and ornate memorials. Avenues of creosote scrub give way to whole family plots. That’s when it hits you, entire generations of pets are buried here with considerable care given to adorning their graves.
Take Friskey’s grave for instance: a beautifully handcrafted metal headstone shaped like a blooming saguaro cactus with a curious bird perched on one arm. It’s obvious some time was spent making it. And as if that isn’t already loving enough, the gravesite overflows with an array of stuffed animals in all sizes. Weathered, with button eyes missing and their stuffing falling out, they hold a lasting vigil over dear Friskey.
Or, there’s Jack the Cat and his unnamed companion. Two wooden portraits depict our feline friends: the first, Jack in a sitting position looking coyly to the side. You can almost picture him seated in a window. The second wood cutout: a full-face angle portrait of a cat. There’s no discernable name or date, yet, the craftsmanship is exquisite. The edges were clearly sanded with care, and not a single whisker is unaccounted for; it’s only splintered and cracked now because of the passing of time.
These are just two examples of the kind of resting places found in this section of the cemetery. It’s also here that you’re likely to find new additions. As previously mentioned, we must not forget the sign-out front that warns us that such discretions are punishable by law.
There’s More Of Them Out There
The cemetery was on federal land during Lockette and Doud’s time, but in the ensuing years, Boulder City purchased the land. However, as of today, there’s still no official backing or plans for incorporation.
Rogue pet cemeteries like the Boulder City Pet Cemetery aren’t as rare as they might seem. The Reno Gazette-Journal makes mention of a similar one near Yerington, Nevada. A bohemian community near the Salton Sea in California called Slab City hosts one as well.
I was able to visit one located outside of Bishop, California. If you exchange the open Mojave for the Sierra Nevada Mountains, you still have all of the ingredients for an unsolicited pet cemetery. Wherever they’re located, the makeshift memorials at these impromptu sites remind us that when it comes to our pets, the love remains.
If It Makes You Happy
When I think of the Boulder City Pet Cemetery, it makes me happy just knowing that it’s there.
I’m grateful for the unsubstantiated rumors that lend to its intrigue. Maybe, the Mob did use it as a secret burial site. What if, when you stop to pay your respects to Fluffy the Bunny, it’s really Bill from Jersey, who owed a debt that he couldn’t pay back?
I’m thankful for its enduring mysteries. Does an ominous white cat really haunt the grounds at night? I hope one does, even though you won’t catch me out there trying to find it.
Most of all, I appreciate the dedication. The people who decided to make it happen and those who continue to do so; sticking it to the man and laying their pets to rest their way. It keeps the tradition alive; an open love letter in the sand. We need places like the Boulder City Pet Cemetery. We need it to confound our goodbyes and toss them into the wind. And we need it to let us know that it’s not goodbye at all; it’s until then old friend, when we can run, play, and cuddle again. Forever.
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