When my dog, Missy, was alive, she had the reputation of "Stealth Woo" with all who knew her.  "Woo" is, of course, simply a play on the primary vocalization of the Malamute breed.  And Missy vocalized a lot.  She was very opinionated, with a innate drive to ensure that she was listened to and taken seriously.  She was also very clever, a bit sneaky when she wanted to be and she could move through the house like a ghost.

She loved it.  It was, for her, the ultimate game.

After she died, her absence was tangible.  It felt almost like an empty echo chamber, until her ashes were returned to us and set up on a small sanctuary that my wife had prepared in her honor.  Although the ashes were small consolation for the loss of her great fuzzy hearted presence, we nonetheless found comfort in the modified presence to which she'd been restored to our lives.  We reminisced about her humor, her games, her attitude and her appetite.  We didn't, therefore, think it was amusing when the bag containing her ashes vanished from the box which held them.