Recently, on a weekend after a long week at work, I was going about my usual weekend routine. My dogs and I seemed perfectly fine, and we enjoyed our Friday evening with nothing out of the ordinary. We all woke up Saturday morning, and I began their routine of letting them go out the back door to potty. Storm went out first, and Naoc started to walk out the door and began to wobble. He appeared to have a neurological event happening to him; he suddenly lay down, and seemed unable to move.
I bolted into the house, grabbed the car keys and wallet, put the other dog in her kennel, and returned to my boy, relieved to find him on his feet and willing to walk with me. We made it to the car and broke several speed limits on our way to the emergency vet. I was perplexed, scared, and worried over my sweetest boy. I couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. I thought he had eaten something he shouldn’t have. Unbeknown to me, our weekend was about to take a turn for the worse. They immediately took him back for testing. I sat in the little room and waited. I panicked and waited. Then, I waited a bit more. I spoke with friends and let them know what was happening; we were all shocked, to say the least.
Soon, the vet came in. Have you ever looked at a doctor, nurse, or even a veterinarian or tech and thought, this isn’t going to be good? I can tell by the look on their faces. What she said next shook me to the very core of my being. “We did an ultrasound of Naoc’s abdomen; unfortunately, all we could see was a tumor on the ultrasound.” I stared at her stupidly. Cancer? How could what appeared to be a normal, healthy adult dog have cancer? He didn’t act like he had cancer.
I sat there, and the gut-twisting, aching pit that happens in your stomach when you know something is going to be bad began to engulf me. She talked about what could happen, what the options were, and what the prognosis could be. Naoc, at 10 years old, had lived a full life; we had done so much stuff together, from Rally Obedience, to attempting IGP. He taught students at our School for Dog Trainers and was the happiest, best boy, and was willing to please literally everyone for a snack. After multiple phone calls, tears, and hyperventilation on my part – and with Naoc still trying to be a good boy and lick away my tears – I decided to let him go humanely. It would be unfair to him to put him through a surgery that could only possibly buy him a few months. I would instead let him go while he was happy, primarily pain-free, and still in his right mind.
The emergency vet staff went above and beyond. They made him a whole cheeseburger, he got to have an entire can of canned chicken, different dog snacks, some wet dog food, and tons of attention from the staff and myself. Two of my dearest friends came to be with me so I did not have to be alone while he was given the medication that would make him sleepy and relaxed and then the final shot that would put him at peace, cancer-free. They stayed with me for over an hour, perhaps even longer; time seemed to stand still for me as I sat on the floor with Naoc, cried into his soft fur, and told him he was such a good boy. Even through the pain, the wailing on my part, and the complete utter mess that I was, I knew deep down that I had made the right decision for him, no matter how painful it was for me.
I never in a million years would have even dreamed I would be sitting at the emergency vet making such a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching decision. If you have ever owned an animal—dog, cat, horse, cow, or any other animal that may be your pet of choice—you may have been faced with the heartbreaking decision of ending that pet’s potential suffering. Euthanasia is often looked at as a taboo word. No one wants to talk about it. As a responsible pet owner, you know and understand that you will likely face the decision of letting your pet go peacefully via euthanasia.
Understanding the grieving process
What you may not realize is the grief process you will go through when this happens. As a Certified Grief Coach for Pet Loss, I have helped a multitude of pet parents work through the loss of their furry family member. When it came to my own pet, it was a struggle. I knew what was happening, but I still struggled. I still struggle. I hope that if you have made it this far into the article, I can give you some guidance and some hope that, with time, things will get better. You will never forget your beloved pet; you should always remember them.
Grief is a natural process. It is the universal reaction to the loss of a loved one, whether a friend, family member, or pet. Grief has physical, emotional, cognitive, and behavioral manifestations that evolve over time. It is not a static state, but a journey. Mourning does not mean forgetting the deceased, but changing the journey we had with them and the bond that was created with them. Although painful, grief does have a function. It is a testament to the relationship that we had with the deceased. The suffering and pain are proportional to love; in other words, the stronger the bond we had and the more invested the relationship was, the more painfully the absence was felt. Grief appears in so many different ways that it would be difficult at best to cover them all – it can be an actual shock, as if a part of you is missing. It can leave a void, a sense of unreality, a deep, gripping sadness intertwined with anger and guilt. Physically, a person can suffer from sleep disorders, loss of appetite, or even physical pains. If well supported, grief can be an opportunity for growth and reshaping some of one’s own life for the better.
Models for processing grief when you have lost a pet
The model of grief stages proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in the late 1960s is one of the most well-known and widely used to describe the grieving process in humans. In it, she describes five main stages that people experience during grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Following alongside her model is William Worden’s model of emotional grief – “tasks” for pet owners to adapt to the loss of a pet. In this, he says that there are four main tasks to help to adapt to the loss of a pet:
- Accepting that the loss is a reality. It may seem obvious, but it is critical for the person grieving to realize that their companion is gone and will not return. Goodbye, rituals can help with this task – burial or cremation helps to anchor this reality.
- Experiencing grief and pain and allowing yourself to feel and express the suffering associated with the pet’s loss involves tears, sadness, anger, and even guilt. This stage is often the hardest for pet owners suffering from pet loss. Society doesn’t always value the expression and loss associated with pet grief. “It’s just an animal.” “It was just a _______.” (dog, cat, horse, etc.).
- The third task is what I have found most difficult. This task involves restructuring your daily life without the presence of the pet. Practically speaking, this involves learning to live without the pet’s daily habits, routines, playtimes, or walks. For me, this was walking into the room and seeing his empty kennel set up and waiting for him, his bone lying where he had left it. His favorite toy is lying on his favorite bed in the house. I have since picked up his bones and toys and put them with his ashes, photos, and collar.
- The fourth task involves emotionally reinvesting in another relationship, either with another pet in the family or with a new pet – without forgetting the deceased pet.
So, how do you cope? First, remember that what you are experiencing is normal. Grief is also necessary for adjusting to the loss of a loved one or a pet. It testifies to the bond that we had with that pet.
Physically, you may experience severe fatigue, insomnia, nightmares, loss of appetite, headaches, muscle tension, and even palpitations. Sometimes, the body can express what words cannot. These symptoms remind you to be mindful of your basic needs: eating without appetite, resting in the evening without actually sleeping, and getting up to move even though you don’t want to and lack the energy.
Emotionally, sadness is the predominant emotion after the loss of a pet. It can be intense and deep-seated. It is always accompanied by tears and sobs, which are a necessary outlet. Anger is also common. It can be anger at oneself, at others for not understanding the grief the individual is going through, at fate, or sometimes even at the pet for leaving.
Guilt is pervasive, especially if euthanasia is involved. The words in this article will not scrape the surface of my guilt. I felt like I had failed Naoc for not noticing he was sick. I felt I should have known. I should have done more bloodwork, had more vet visits, etc.. A feeling of emptiness, despair, and even helplessness can overwhelm an individual, and they may feel that nothing makes sense anymore.
Cognitively, grieving persons can experience difficulties with concentration and even memory. Their departed pet often consumes their thoughts; they ruminate and feel like they are going in circles. Some have intrusive thoughts or flashbacks of times shared with the pet or images of its death. I experienced this myself. I can sometimes see myself sitting on the floor of the emergency vet and watching his eyes close, him taking a deep breath, and then nothing. Some individuals may even experience hallucinations, where they hear the pet in the house or feel like they see the pet. These can all be striking, but remember what you experience is normal, and they will fade over time.
How to help those who have lost a pet
All these expressions, even some disturbing ones, have an adaptive function and are NORMAL. They allow us to accept the loss gradually, adjust to the absence, and recognize that they will gradually fade with ups and downs and give way (eventually) to calm.
If you are helping someone through the grief of a pet (or loved one or friend), you must accept these reactions with kindness and without judgment. Telling the person what they are experiencing is a normal stage of the grieving process. Let them put words to feelings, be the listening ear, and help them feel supported; all of these things will be crucial to getting through the loss. Mourning the loss of a pet is not a weakness, but a strength that bears witness to our bond with the pet and the humanity we have as pet owners.
You must be logged in to post a comment.