In the hustle of urban life, pets have long become indispensable members of many families. Over the past decade, China's pet economy has continued to heat up. Yet, when parting is inevitable, a growing number of pet owners are choosing to arrange a dignified and warm farewell for their pets. From body transportation and cleaning to farewell ceremonies with flowers, cremation, ashes storage, and even turning fur or ashes into memorial keepsakes… the pet afterlife industry has quietly emerged. This "premium consumption" driven by human emotions reflects changes in societal attitudes.
Yilin, a girl from Qinzhou, Guangxi, spent over seven years with her British Shorthair cat, Feifei. The cat had just passed away, and those warm memories they shared still felt as vivid as yesterday. Back then, while studying at a university in Nanning, Yilin impulsively took in the chubby kitten from her senior. The first time she held it, it clung tightly to her shoulder. That one glance was all it took for Yilin to bring it back to her dorm and name it Feifei.
A dignified final journey
In the days that followed, Feifei became the most vibrant footnote in Yilin's life. When she stayed up late working on her thesis, Feifei would doze on her lap, its purring and the sound of keyboard tapping blending into the background music of her youth. When she rode her electric bike to class, Feifei would curl up in the front basket, letting the wind rustle its fur. Every year when she returned to Qinzhou for the New Year, Feifei would familiarly cling to Yilin's mother and grandmother. When firecrackers went off, her mother would always hold it and cover its ears, treating it with the same tenderness as a child in the family.
However, in the seventh year, during a cold winter, fate tore open a gap in their warmth—Feifei was diagnosed with a serious illness.
"I remember the day I decided to stop treatment. I brought Feifei home, and the sunset on the way was beautiful, just like every sunset we'd watched together before," Yilin recalled. The sunset dyed the sky orange-red, and Yilin, lost in memories, seemed to see Feifei lying quietly in her bike basket again. Feifei breathed its last in Yilin's hands. That night, Yilin kept it by her bedside, and in her dreams, she seemed to hear its familiar purring.
At the farewell ceremony, Yilin dressed Feifei in her own pillowcase and burned a small pillow and vest, hoping it would carry the scent of its beloved owner and not feel lonely. That day, friends and university roommates gathered to say goodbye, treating the occasion with the solemnity of a family funeral. Yilin brought Feifei's ashes, along with its name tag and fur, home for safekeeping. A friend even made a 3D-printed model so Yilin could remember her pet by seeing it.
For Yilin, this dignified farewell was never about formality but about the continuation of respect and love. "Choosing to arrange a funeral for Feifei like one for a human was simply because I wanted it to be surrounded by love and respect, just as it was in life, and to have a dignified final journey," Yilin said, as if comforting herself.
Warmth of dignified goodbyes
The pillowcase Yilin prepared for Feifei still carried residual warmth, while in Liuzhou, Guangxi, Zhuzai, a post-95s pet funeral director, had long grown accustomed to such farewells. As a pet funeral director with several years of experience, Zhuzai's daily work involves cleaning, laying to rest, and holding farewell ceremonies for pets in their final moments, as well as creating tangible mementos for pet owners. She has seen many owners pour their love into the details: some insist on brushing their pet's fur one last time themselves because "it hated anyone else touching its belly—only I could do it properly"; others request using the pet's favorite shampoo for cleaning because "it shouldn't leave with an unfamiliar scent"; and one girl even arranged a "birthday-themed" farewell ceremony for her cat because that day marked the anniversary of their first meeting.
"The most unforgettable was an auntie who had an 18-year-old Teddy dog," Zhuzai recalled that afternoon. The auntie walked in carrying a cardboard box containing the first slipper the dog had chewed up as a puppy, the sweater it wore when sick, and a well-worn photo album. During the ceremony, the auntie didn't shed tears but instead pointed at the photos and said with a smile, "Look, it was only the size of a palm when it first arrived." Finally, the auntie placed the chewed slipper and the ashes together into a wooden box, whispering, "With this, you'll be at ease."
Zhuzai said that in that moment, she understood that "dignity" meant placing the pet in the most cherished spot in one's heart.
Some people mix their pet's ashes into soil to plant a tree, some turn paw prints into keychains, and some embroider fur into scarves. Over the years, Zhuzai has witnessed changes in the industry—from "how to handle the remains" to "what can be left behind."
"In the past, owners mostly opted for simple cremation. Now, they plan ceremonies, customize memorials, and even store ashes, returning during Qingming Festival to 'visit,'" Zhuzai said. When owners wear ash pendants to work, bring drumsticks to gravesites, or when a girl wears a pet ash ring at her engagement ceremony, she finally understands the meaning of her work.
"I used to think a pet's passing was the end. Now I understand that love can make it 'always there' in many ways," said Zhuzai. In her view, the most touching aspect of this industry is turning farewell into another kind of beginning. When people are willing to pause for a pet's belongings and pour their hearts into a ceremony, they are, in essence, taking every form of love seriously. And she is willing to be the quiet witness, using details and warmth to draw the gentlest conclusion for each love.
Give me something to remember
In pet afterlife services, beyond solemn farewell ceremonies, the creation of pet memorials has become an important way for many owners to express their longing. It is understood that such services, carrying deep emotional connections, often account for a relatively high proportion of afterlife service costs. Customized memorials can range from several thousand to tens of thousands of yuan per person, becoming dual vessels for emotions and artistic expression.
In recent years, demand in the pet funeral market has risen rapidly. Data from Qichacha shows that as of June 2025, there were over 8,000 enterprises in mainland China whose business scope includes "pet funeral" services, the vast majority of which were established within the last three years. Extending traditional funeral culture to pets is a crucial part of pet owners' emotional expression.
"These memorials are like 'a lone lamp by the river'—when owners need them, they not only carry the deep affection of 'treating pets as family' in the most tangible way but also serve as a continuation and testimony of the bond between owner and pet."
Journalist's View | Commemorating the departed, consoling the living
By Darius
In the Hong Kong film The Last Dance, the interactions between the two protagonists working in the funeral industry reveal an important truth: many funeral rituals are not only meant to commemorate the departed but also to care for the feelings of the living, helping them break free from the shadow of death and move forward with peace and courage.
I was not as fortunate as Yilin in the article. When my cat passed away, I was not by its side. Working in another city, I couldn't even return to see it one last time. As a result, I immersed myself in a river of grief for two full weeks. Later, I scoured through my photo albums, compiling all the pictures and videos related to it. Watching it extend its paw to play with toys in the videos and look up to interact with me, I felt a warm sadness, as if yesterday were still right before my eyes. Two months later, when I returned home and saw its memorial photo, I truly realized that my cat was gone.
To this day, I still dare not bring this up with my father. He was the one who discovered my cat's passing alone, arranged its funeral, and handled everything on his own. He didn't even notify my mother and me immediately, choosing instead to bear the sorrow alone because he didn't want to disturb us while we were meeting in Hong Kong. I don't know if he has moved on, and I cannot take the risk of asking. So, while writing this news piece, seeing how people can alleviate their pain in such ways and keep their pets close to them, I couldn't help but feel genuinely happy.
(With input from Wen Wei Po; English Editor: Darius)
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