By Martin Teague
Have you ever wanted to create a living memorial garden to honor a beloved family member, friend or pet? There are a lot of things to consider when planning your garden space, such as types of plants, size and layout of your garden, soil quality, shade or sun, etc. It is much like planning other spaces in your garden, except for the emotional connections. Your loved one might have had favorite plants or flowers, or special stories leading to your plant selections.
In 2010, we bought a house in Washington. As we settled in, it became clear something essential was missing: a dog.
Laura found him first—a small brown-and-black dog in an adoption book. I wasn’t convinced by the photo, but we went to meet “Brownie” anyway. He was a 10-month-old Cattle Dog/Corgi mix, and in person he had far more charm than his picture suggested.
On a “test” walk, he found a chicken bone and started chewing. I said “No,” then cautiously reached down and took it from him. No growl, no fuss. That told us everything we needed to know. Done deal—we brought him home.
On the drive back, Laura and I caught a familiar scent we hadn’t experienced in years: dog farts. We looked at each other and smiled. Yep—things were back to normal.
Laura renamed him Guinness, after her favorite beer—a fitting choice given his brown-and-tan coloring. Soon, Laura and “Gdawg” became inseparable. The Dynamic Duo. Frick and Frack. Partners in daily walks, adventures, and companionship right up to his final days.
He gave us 16 wonderful years, nearly all of them in perfect health. And then, as dogs do, he let us know it was time.
To honor him, we created a living memorial on our Oregon property overlooking the Pacific Ocean—one of his favorite places to dig. The soil there is rich, loose, and shaded—perfect for both a happy dog and shade-loving plants.
At the center, we planted a hydrangea tree. Around it, in a circle, we placed six azaleas—each three feet from the tree and from one another, forming a simple, balanced design.
But before planting, we mixed Gdawg’s cremains with garden soil and used that blend to plant the hydrangea and azaleas. In this way, he quite literally became part of the landscape he loved.
Now, instead of focusing on loss, we find ourselves looking forward—to new growth, spring blooms, and the quiet satisfaction of watching something meaningful take root.
In a way, Gdawg is still with us—just growing in a different direction.
And honestly, as far as legacies go, that’s not a bad one.
