The final resting places for hundreds of animals are in a state of neglect.
ZACH PLUHACEK / Lincoln Journal Star | Posted: Friday, June 1, 2007 7:00 pm
Richard Sullivan wades through overgrown weeds and across unsure ground to a fence at the end of a field, looking for the spot where his dog Snipper was buried in 1980.
Near the grave, he picks up a dirty Budweiser bottle, and uncovers molding pillows from beneath a mess of waist-high grass.
He digs through the growth to find Snipper’s grave; sometimes he brings clippers to clear away the grass and weeds.
He remembers the white terrier he got as a 12-year-old boy. His best buddy, a dog that loved to play and taught himself how to sit.
“Then I just kind of sigh heavily and walk away, I guess.”
Snipper is one of two dogs Sullivan has buried here. His beagle, Garbo, is buried somewhere in the middle of the field.
Searching for answers
Nobody knows for sure how long Doc White’s Pet Cemetery has been around, but veterinarian Robert White sold the part of the land he owned to Nebraska Charleston Associates about six years ago.
The company, which also owns the College Park-The View apartments next door, has not stopped Sullivan and other pet owners from driving into the apartment parking lot to visit their animals’ graves.
And the Lower Platte South Natural Resources District, which owns the rest of the land, has not stopped them from leaving plastic flowers on their pets’ grave markers.
But the graves themselves, final resting places for hundreds of animals, are in a state of neglect.
When White sold his land at 301 W. Charleston St. to a development company, which later sold it to Nebraska Charleston Associates, rumor had it he made an agreement with the buyers to maintain the cemetery.
At least that’s how Sullivan remembers it.
To date, no paper trail or official word of such an agreement has been found. There was nothing in the deed for the land, and it looks like no other contract existed.
White is in failing health at a nursing home, his memory declining.
Former City Councilwoman Patte Newman did some research in January 2006, and she came to an important conclusion: Doc White’s Pet Cemetery wasn’t technically a pet cemetery at all.
“Basically,” she said, “it’s not regulated in accordance with city law.”
The cemetery was around long before a 1988 city ordinance said pet cemeteries were allowed as long as they were approved by the director of the County-City Health Department.
White, who made sure the grass was mowed and the field was clean, never owned most of the land on which the cemetery sits.
Chances are, he didn’t even realize it wasn’t his land, said Paul Zillig, assistant manager of the Lower Platte South Natural Resources District.
Zillig said the land was purchased in 1945 by Sanitary District No. 1 of Lancaster County, and since was acquired by the NRD.
A call for help
Richard Sullivan contacted City Council members for help. He wrote to the people who owned the College Park apartment complex, the people he thought owned the land his dogs were buried on.
Now he knows the NRD owns some of the land, and he has contacted people there.
He’s waiting to see what can be done.
“I’m sure we can work with (the pet owners) on whatever they would want to be done out there and needs to be done,” Zillig said. “We realize the predicament these folks are in.”
Pets have been buried on the land for as long as Zillig can remember, and the NRD has no plans to move them.
Sullivan says he didn’t pay for the space that holds his pets, but he did pay for headstones, and he thought the place would be maintained.
He’s hoping someone will come forward to help him.
The land is too big and too overgrown for a regular lawn mower. The trash isn’t something he thinks he should have to deal with.
Snipper and Garbo
To get to the cemetery, Sullivan drives into the apartment complex lot and parks along a wooden fence.
There’s no sign that says Doc White’s Pet Cemetery, and the wooden entry gate is almost indistinguishable. It opens just enough for a person to slip through.
Inside, the cemetery stretches about a football field in length, and maybe 15 yards across until it brushes up against Oak Creek to the north. There is no record of how many animals it holds.
Sullivan hasn’t been able to find the grave of his beagle puppy, Garbo, for a long time. Garbo was buried at the cemetery in 1992 after being hit by a car on 70th Street.
On this day, he can’t find Snipper’s grave, either.
“This is the worst I’ve ever seen it,” he says.
Reach Zach Pluhacek at 473-7395 or zpluhacek@journalstar.com.