I didn’t know there was a pet cemetery at Fort Monroe until I stumbled on it by accident. Nothing I’d read ahead of time mentioned it, and I only noticed it while walking the grounds.
At the time, I was about two months into recovery from knee surgery. I had only been out of my large leg brace and knee immobilizer for a couple of days, and I still couldn’t walk very far or very steadily. When I realized what the sign was pointing to, I hesitated — because the only way up, as far as I could see, was a long staircase.
I decided to try anyway.
I held onto the railing and took it slowly, pulling myself up step by step. It was cold, and my leg already felt shaky, but I really wanted to see what was up there. When I reached the top, I was surprised by how large the pet cemetery actually was.
It ran along the upper wall, one gravestone after another, stretching much farther than I expected. I walked for a while, stopping often. Some of the gravestones dated back to the 1930s. I hadn’t realized the cemetery was that old, and seeing dates from so long ago made it feel less like a novelty and more like a quiet historical record.
I kept noticing the names people had chosen for their pets, and how much care went into the inscriptions. There were a lot of dachshunds, which genuinely surprised me. I hadn’t known that breed was so popular among military families, but it showed up again and again as I walked.
I didn’t make it to the end of the cemetery. It was longer than I could manage that day, and eventually my leg started to feel weak. I turned back before seeing the whole thing.
Even so, I was really glad I found it. As I left, I found myself moved, and with a full heart.
Found in Nomadland 