Reflecting on National Pet Memorial Day coming up on Sept 8, I find myself reminiscing about the pets that have enriched my life. However, it also leaves me pondering that in a society that observes numerous significant days of memorial, the importance of National Pet Memorial Day is relatively unknown.
Pets are family too. The loss of a pet exemplifies disenfranchised grief, a type of mourning that is not fully recognized, or understood by society leaving us to grieve in silence. As a guardian to many pets over the years, I have experienced the pain of outliving a beloved companion. Walking alongside them on their end-of-life journeys has been a bittersweet experience. Having to sit in that room, making a choice to end their suffering and freeing them from their pain is the price that we pay. They offer years of unconditional love and acceptance, showing up for us every day with no conditions and no judgement but, after their death, leaving us with unsurmountable grief.I recently encountered a booth at the local farmers market offering grief support from a local organization. Intrigued, I stopped by for a chat and shared my vision of hosting a gathering for children who are coping with the loss of a pet. The volunteers manning the booth both seemed taken aback by my idea, expressing very thinly veiled skepticism. Despite my enthusiasm, it seemed that they were not convinced that this was something that was needed. I suspect that these well-intentioned people, volunteering to sit at the booth on that sunny Friday afternoon, likely have experienced a loss of their own - a loss that they view as far more impactful than the family dog dying. As I write this I am reminded of the words of Dr. David Kessler, whom I have had the privilege of learning from, “We need not compare grief, there is plenty go around.“
Our first encounter with grief for many of us is in childhood with the loss of a family pet. Children are like sponges, absorbing and observing everything we do. By creating a safe space for children to openly express their feelings and grieve the loss of a family pet, we can help them develop a healthy relationship with grief. It is important to be honest with children and use simple language to tell them the pet has died. This can go a long way to preventing them from crafting their own narrative which can often be more distressing than reality. Be honest. Telling a child that the family dog “ran away” does not take the grief away; this is still a loss that needs to be navigated. Good intentions to protect the child shift the loss into ambiguous grief, serving to add doubt and a yearning for the pet’s return. This constant hope of a reunion leaves a barrier to acceptance. Substituting the hamster that has died with another (of which I myself am guilty) with the hope that your child does not notice may temporarily shield them from hard emotions. However, it also overlooks an opportunity to impart a valuable life lesson about coping with a loss, a universal experience that we will all encounter through our lives. Eventually, children will face the reality of losing loved ones. Just as you wouldn’t go out and find a new grandparent if one passes away, it is important to honor the impact of these losses.
I think of someone I knew whose bird died. Cha-Cha was 22 years old and had come to live with my friend when she was just eight years old. Let’s pause for a moment to think of all the milestones that Cha-Cha had shared with her. He was there when she celebrated her birthdays, he welcomed her home when she returned from school after being bullied on the playground. She confided in him her childhood crushes and cried into his feathers when she suffered her first broken heart, and he was there when her parents divorced. When she went to university, she packed Cha-Cha up and together they drove across the country. When she got married, he was included in the wedding pictures. A couple years later as she and her life partner welcomed babies into their home, he was there to welcome them too. All of this done with unconditional love, no judgement and he had relied on her for everything over the 22 years of his life. Cha-Cha’s death was a significant loss. Yet, when she told her employer she needed time away she was met with resistance, after all this was “just a bird.” In a moment when she was devastated by the loss of her longtime friend her grief was minimized, leaving her doubting the emotions that in this moment were overwhelming her.
When a pet dies there are many ways we can honor their lives and our journey with grief. Adopting the attitude of “she was just a dog” or trying to minimize our grief story to appease a societal expectation is not helpful. We need to give ourselves permission to honor the relationship we have with our animals and sit with the grief and all the feelings that come with it. “Closure” is a myth and as long as we love we will live with grief. Having a ceremony to honor a pet and the bond that was shared can put us on a healthy path to process our grief. The ceremony can be done with as many people as you feel is right, even if it is just yourself. While there are life celebrants who can facilitate ceremony to honor the life of a pet, it is not necessary to have a professional do this for you – this is something that can be done on your own in a meaningful way.
Seeking the assistance of a grief educator or counselor or participating in support group with likeminded individuals who can relate to your experience can be incredibly helpful. Having the opportunity to discuss and process your loss with someone who is non-judgmental, and who understands the significance of your loss can provide you with invaluable support in helping you cope with grief in a healthy way.
Often our grief stories lead us to search for meaning; for me this is no different. While I have lost pets in the past, the loss of Daisy Loo has brought with it a tsunami-sized wave of grief. She was my sweet, sassy Duck Toller who came to me a scared dog, having been pulled from a kill shelter. Over the thirteen years we were together she blossomed into a gregarious, outgoing dog. She became my partner in teaching dog training lessons and later came with me to teach children in classrooms about responsible pet guardianship. Today, as I still process the grief of losing this amazing dog, she still works with me. Rather that walking into a classroom of children, eager to be pet by her audience; a plant sits on my mantel with her collar wrapped around the base of the pot. Her memory is embedded in my mind and her proverbial paw prints imprinted on my heart as she continues to be my partner and guide me in my work. She has given me the wisdom and experience to share with all those who want to listen. She has brought me to a new level of empathy, allowing me to serve others who are experiencing their own loss.
Pets offer us many gifts and one of the most profound is the lesson that they teach us about growth and resilience in the face of loss. For this I am forever grateful to Daisy and all the four-legged companions that came into my life before her.
As you read this, whether you are navigating your own loss of a pet or know someone who is, I encourage you to show up just as the pet would. Sitting in silence and total acceptance is more powerful than a thousand spoken words.
In loving memory of Daisy Loo 2008-2022
