On most days, Mark Lindenberg either drives by or walks over to visit with Boots, his beloved pet cat who died in August 2020 at the age of 17. The New York man had his black-and-white tuxedo cat buried at the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery, a picturesque spot with rolling, grassy hills near the main road.

The epitaph on Boots’ tombstone reads, “You taught me how to love and be loved.”

Other tombstones are engraved with phrases such as “A truer friend we never had” and “Our beloved queen.”

“Human cemeteries are sad,” Lindenberg says. “This is one of the most cheerful places. When you look at the love that goes behind every plot here — the sayings, the toys, the pinwheels — it's just, I can't think of a better place.”

Hartsdale is America’s oldest working pet cemetery and was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2012. Lindenberg says he paid about $7,000 to bury Boots at Hartsdale. Those costs include the plot, casket, tombstone, burial and site maintenance in perpetuity.

“What have I worked for if I'm not going to do the things that matter most, and this mattered most,” Lindenberg says. “I got instant closure the day I decided I was going to bury her here.”

Pet burials started in Hartsdale in 1896 when veterinarian Samuel Johnson allowed a client to bury her dog in his apple orchard, a hillside spot located about 30 kilometers north of New York City. Since then, about 70,000 animals have been laid to rest in the 2-hectare cemetery. Most of the pets buried at Hartsdale are cats and dogs, but there are a few more exotic animals.

“There's reptiles that are buried here. Mice,” says Edward Martin III, vice president of the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery. “There's a lion cub that was buried here in 1912 by a Russian princess. There's the ashes of Ming, who's a Bengal tiger that was buried here a few years ago. There are some monkeys.”

There’s also Hudson the horse, some birds and singer Mariah Carey’s cat, Clarence. The oldest headstone, dating to 1898, commemorates the life of a dog named Blague.

Martin runs the place alongside his father, Edward Martin Jr., who purchased the cemetery in 1974. The younger Martin is a lawyer and certified public accountant, who eventually opted to help oversee the cemetery, where he once worked as a teenager.

“I've seen what people go through, and they lose their pets, and I feel like I'm in a good position where I can help them,” he says. “And I have helped them, and it makes me want to continue helping them.”

Between 250 and 300 burials are conducted at Hartsdale each year. The cemetery never runs out of space because not all of the graves are permanent. People can pay a one-time forever maintenance fee of $3,500 or an annual fee of $105. If the annual fee stops being paid, that gravesite is eventually offered for sale.

“The pet in the grave will be removed from that plot so someone else who wants it can pay the maintenance. And the pets are taken out, and they're cremated, and they don't leave the cemetery,” says Martin Jr., Hartsdale’s president. “Their remains are scattered over the cemetery grass.”

A centerpiece at the cemetery is the war dog memorial at the top of a hill. Unveiled in 1923, the monument was originally dedicated to World War I service dogs. But these days, the memorial honors service dogs of all kinds.

Although Hartsdale is primarily a resting place for animals, the cremated remains of about 800 humans are buried here with their pets. There’s even a Martin family plot, where the elder Martin plans to eventually be laid to rest with other relatives.

“I have to be buried somewhere. And why would I go to any place other than this?” he says. “My mother and father, and my mother-in-law or father-in-law are buried here, and so, that's a good reason by itself to do it.”

Lindenberg also likes the idea. He has already arranged to be cremated and buried alongside Boots when the time comes.

“I'm single. I don't know if I'll ever get married, and I can't think of a better place,” he says. “I lived with my cat every day for almost 17 years. Why stop now?”

In the meantime, Lindenberg, who lives a 10-minute walk away, will continue to visit his old friend almost daily.