Real lives: How much is that doggy coffin in the window ...

Once a pet was for life, but for today's besotted owner that isn't long enough. Animal lovers these days are seeking a more permanent bond; a physical or spiritual proximity with their dear departed furry friends.

Like road rage and male depression, pet bereavement is another Nineties emotion that appears to have slipped out from under the collective British stiff upper-lip. There are now over 50 pet crematoriums and cemeteries in Britain. Marble gravestones, cremations, coffins, spiritual guidance and professional counselling are widely available - at a cost - to help ease the pain of pet loss.

This rapidly expanding market saw a new arrival last week; Julian Wedgwood, a greetings card publisher and owner of four acres of land in north Devon, has just received planning permission to open what is thought to be Europe's first pet-and-people green burial site. Animals and owners can now rest alongside each other under an oak tree for a cost of pounds 150 and pounds 250 respectively. "There's definitely a market here," Wedgwood enthuses. "Twenty-five per cent of houses round here are lived in by single people and they all have companion pets." And they're not all lonely old ladies. Single, professional types are increasingly turning to pets - especially cats - for companionship. According to Petcare Trust, the peak pet owning group is 35-44 years old; the lowest, surprisingly, is the over-64s.

Wedgwood's inspiration came, he says, from the Mongols, who liked to be buried on south-facing slopes next to their horses. "They probably slaughtered their horses and then the slaves, and concubines went with them too. They cared for horses far more than they did humans."

Burying animals and people together is not a recent innovation; according to John Archer, a psychology professor at the University of Central Lancaster, who has studied pet bereavement, the remains of a human with an arm wrapped around a puppy were discovered in 1978 on a site in Israel dating back 12,000 years.

The bond between man and animal may have ancient roots but the current trend for pet burials is more redolent of American kitsch; in the US, animal weddings and funerals are part of a multi-million dollar business; there are even professional marriage organisers who perform the nuptials, provide the catering and, of course, Fido's (or Fifi's) white wedding dress. In Britain we've only just begun. The Funeral Centre, a supermarket- style funeral parlour in Catford, south London, now devotes a small section to Pet Corner, selling coffins, caskets and marble or granite headstones. John Hornsby Bates, the first mass manufacturer of animal coffins, launched his company Forget-Me-Not over a year ago and is selling around 300 silk-lined boxes a month; then there's the Pet Memorial Company, which has sold around 1,000 stone memorial stones since its launch last October.

But for evidence of this booming market in mourning you need look no further than the obituary columns of Dogs Today magazine, where one reader grieves: "Sweet Bess, who was always there for us ... her large brown eyes so expressive. Her human ways so enchanting. Our adorable Corgi who gave us so much happiness." Another laments: "Oliver - we're spirits of the night, you and I. Me from earthly plain and you, somewhere beyond. But when silver moon unravels her veil 'cross the sky, we come together you and I."

According to Vicky Todd at Pet Loss Befriender Service, it's not just dogs that provoke such a sense loss - hamsters, birds and rats are also sorely missed. "We've had hundreds of calls from people in quite horrendous situations. A girl last week couldn't bear to part from the body of her pet cat. She was terrified to let it go to a crematorium." Pam Bowyer, 56, is still devastated a year after the death of her Panama Amazon parrot, Squashy. In good faith she lent Squashy out on breeding loan where he contracted a bacterial virus and had to be incinerated. She now has a small memorial stone in her garden which reads: "A special bird, so loved and lost. Fly freely with Charlie" (his "wife", who died soon after). "He was like my child," explains Pam. "I needed something to mourn after 21 years of knowing him. I adored him, but I never got a chance to bury his body. Now I can go out and say hello to him every day."

If Pam Bowyer is a monogamous pet widow, then Jean Haxby, 66, is the Zsa-Zsa Gabor of the animal bereaved. Now on her second round of cats - Chantel 2, Ming Lee 2 and Jamel 2 - Jean has also cremated three cream poodles, Chico 1, 2 and 3, and visits them regularly. "As soon as one died I replaced it straight away. But I wanted to know exactly what happened to them in the end," she says. Which is why visitors to Cambridge crematorium can watch their dear departed on a TV screen as they're moved along a conveyor belt towards the cremator. As managing director Ray Hale says: "The important thing for people to know is that what they came with is what they go away with, albeit it in a smaller form." Jean kept Chico 2 and 3, in their smaller form, at home for a year. "They were in the lounge and then I moved them to my bedroom - above my bed. I wanted to be closer to them."

Those who wish to get closer still can always contact Barbara Burgess, an animal spiritualist who uses telepathy to communicate with pets on the other side, and then tapes her findings. "Lots of animals know what their owners worry about," she says. "They tell me they knew the end was coming and it was meant to be," she says. Helen Hartley was deeply comforted when Barbara "conversed" with Amber, her six-year-old golden retriever. "I found out how Amber was ill-treated by another owner. It was quite uncanny, but it was comforting to know she was settled and happy; she told me not to grieve and to get another dog."

In the past, owners like Pam, Jean and Helen may have concealed their grief but now they're encouraged to express such feelings. Laura Lee, a pet loss adviser, believes it's an area of experience that has become more acceptable to talk about. Once the sorrow that dared not speak its name, pet bereavement is finally out in the open. "I think we're all entitled to show grief in a positive way. If it means burying or cremating a pet then that's no bad thing," says Lee. "Let's face it, if you've looked after something for 15 years, why should that sense of responsibility end when the animal dies?"

The danger is that where vulnerable emotions are released, unscrupulous entrepreneurs are sure to follow. And make a tidy profit. Beverley Cuddy, editor of Dogs Today, says that there is a seedier side to the whole business of pet disposal. "It's a booming industry but the problem is pet cemeteries, unlike human ones, don't have to be on consecrated ground. If an owner goes bust or changes business then the land can be used for something else."

According to Cuddy, one woman in Derby recently charged punters for pet robes, caskets and burials and then did a runner with the proceeds. When distressed owners went in search of their pets, they found them dumped in plastic bags. There's also a lucrative trade in animal skins, particularly with the Germans, who apparently swear by German Shepherd-hair pants as an aid to rheumatism. But ending up as a pair of underpants isn't the worse fate for a dog, as Cuddy explains. "Animal carcasses can end up at fat renderers, getting used in animal and possibly human feed, and even soap."

This area of commercial activity is a natural consequence of a culture that increasingly ascribes human feelings to pet animals. Professor Archer believes that we have always been a pet-loving society, although this current appetite for anthropomorphising could, in part, be a response to modern living. "Certainly, I think that the lack of very stable, conditional relationships within families may accentuate feelings for pets," he says.

"Animals do provide unconditional love; they accept you entirely as you are. We can talk to a dog or a cat and they don't judge us. For some people this can be a stress-free relationship." Laura Lee agrees: "We live in a society where people are very cautious about one another. There are so many marital break-ups and invariably the only thing that remains constant is an animal." Which brings us to the next inevitable development; where there are pet funerals, pet weddings can't be too far behind.

Still, mollycoddled pets everywhere have never had it so good. Chances are they'll be increasingly lavishly provided for in this life and beyond - as long as they steer clear of rheumatic Germans, that is.

Last rites: what your money can buy

pounds 0.00: Let the vet dispose of it, usually in a black plastic bin liner

pounds 4: Dark blue hexagonal hamster-sized cardboard coffin with lace trim white taffeta lining from Forget-Me-Not

pounds 35: As above, but to fit a large dog

pounds 50: Funeral ceremony, performed by the Reverend Nick Evans, Aldershot

pounds 95.98: Cremation of medium-sized dog at the Cambridge pet crematorium (includes pick up and wooden casket)

pounds 100: A horse head wreath from the Funeral Centre, Catford

pounds 130-pounds 240: Marble or granite headstones from the Catford Funeral centre

pounds 250: Burial of a cat (includes coffin)

pounds 400: A double plot under an oak tree for yourself and your pet in Julian Wedgwood's north Devon cemetary (pounds 150 per pet; pounds 250 per person)

pounds 493.51: Cremation of a horse (includes wooden casket)

pounds 500-plus: Burial of a horse

pounds 35-pounds 500 (depending on size of animal): Have your animal stuffed at Get Stuffed, north London