I know, the title doesn’t belong in here. Maybe not at first glance.
To be really honest it’s been in my head for about a year, and then sitting in my drafts for about a month, and it’s almost been deleted a couple of times. I know the ‘blogging’ rules: don’t talk about death, ah well.
But just today I learned that a friend had to put their cat to sleep after 19 years together.
So, this is for you and them.
(Started 4th July)
I’ve a real urge to write this today. Sometimes when I sit down to write the mind hooks on a thought and there is nothing I can do to stop it.
I’m not sure if it’s after a conversation on Facebook the other evening about a pet therapy dog called Dexter.
Or because a friend has been told by their vet ‘it may be time to start thinking about what’s really best for…’, in other words: it’s time for you to make that so-called humane but completely inhuman decision about your dogs life.
Maybe it was the guy I spoke to, just a stranger, out walking his new puppy last night who started crying whilst explaining he needed another dog as he went to pieces, losing his best friend in the world two months ago.
Perhaps the truth is it’s nearly two years to the day when I lost Maya and I’m just plain old feeling it. And for some reason all these little events are happening, who knows, does it matter?
That Which I Feared, Is Now Upon Me
Even as I write this I’ll cry and new doggie may glance at me and adopt the, ‘Here we go again, Maya this, Maya that‘ look, and I’ll put aside the thoughts that at some point I’m going to visit this experience again at least five times in the future.
One of my biggest fears was the day when Maya would no longer be in my life.
Out of all of lives fears, that was mine. I don’t know about you, but I would shake my head when the thoughts popped up and shivered telling myself not to go there.
Lesson: Life is weird, it always presents us with what we fear most at somepoint huh?
Nothing prepared me for the loss.
Nothing.
The pain was excruciating, unbearable, it ripped at my core.
That may sound dramatic. I know that.
Maybe it doesn’t to you? Maybe that’s why I’m writing this, I keep saying pet bereavement is so misunderstood, it is, really, it is.
So, this is not a here’s what you must do and this is how you are going to feel at different stages speech.
See, I didn’t cope well.
Look what I ‘do’ for a living, I’m supposed to cope well. I didn’t eat properly for a month and I didn’t sleep a full night for at least two. I would wake up, go outside and just sob. I couldn’t work, I couldn’t understand why the whole world wasn’t as upset, bothered or cared as much.
I couldn’t understand why they didn’t see her life as valuable like what I did.
I didn’t understand why the people closest to me would assume me to be ‘okay’ after a couple of weeks.
But they didn’t live with her for 13 and half years, 24/7.
Oh She Had a Good Life
When Maya passed away I was delivered, perhaps like you, the oh she had a good life, she lasted well, it’s not the same as a human bereavement, that is much worse and other standard one liners.
Today, I’ll still question that if you don’t mind. Here’s why…
If there is anything my line of work has taught me is I can’t judge or pass comment on what one person puts more value on than another. I just don’t have that right. Nobody does.
If people are saying these things to you, forgive them.
They are usually delivered because they don’t know what to say. Many people can’t cope at times of human bereavement and they may not even begin understand why losing a pet carries the same grief. Forgive them.
They probably never will understand. That’s not blaming them or judging them.You need to grieve, not worry about the opinions of others.
But there are people that you can surround yourself with, which I didn’t know of at the time (see the end of the post) who will understand your pain and loss.
Personally, losing Maya was worse than any human bereavement I have experienced.
That’s really difficult to write and admit, because I know some may read it and think that a) I have never lost a human being close to me, which I have and b) that I can’t compare the loss of a pet with the loss of human.
It’s just my truth.
You may feel that same guilt, about not feeling the same way towards a human loss as you do your pet. I’m, kind of, smiling. Let’s face it, there aren’t many humans in our life who’ll never grumble at being in our company 24/7, or that we give them permission to sit at the end of the bath, while we’re in it, watching us soap up.
There aren’t many two legged beings, which will dive on us as soon as we enter a room, leave a room or just sit in a room.
Not many humans will instantly spot danger and growl to warn us, lick away tears or miss us, even for a minute.
So forgive yourself.
Give yourself permission to grieve over the loss, and there is no comparison between human and animal bereavement, a pet passing triggers the same feelings as human, the cause is different, the emotional responses aren’t.
If it’s stronger for your pet, then so it is.
Funny, I used the word ‘passing’, it’s such a gentle word huh?
It gives the picture and visual of moving gentle along, like swans on midnight moonlit lakes or passing clouds, drifting in and out, silently. And yet we both know different, the words that are used generally aren’t gentle when it comes to a pet and their death, they are awful. And perhaps that’s where the misunderstanding begins, there are no emotions attached to these words.
Put to sleep. Euthanasia. Lay Down. Put Out its Suffering and Misery. Destroyed.
Maya died at home, in my lap, 3.am on a Monday morning. There was no one else around except the other animals in the household. From the time I noticed she wasn’t herself until that morning was 5 days.
She got tired.
It was her heart.
She started to lie down in strange places, knowing she wasn’t ‘herself’, I took her to the vets and they told me her heart was beating 5 times as fast as it should, leave her for x-rays.
Picking her up they said ‘she has heart failure‘. They didn’t say how long she had, whether she would get better, they said leave her a week and bring her back in. (I think a little anger still resides there!)
Sunday, she deteriorated, so fast. Call to the emergency vet, and I was told to up her drugs. She picked up.
Then at 2am, I was sitting with her on my knee in the garden, begging her to get better but she was exhausted.
It was just time.
I made the decision to ask the vet to come to the house and give the jags with the lethal barbiturates that would ultimately stop her heart beating, I was going to kill my dog.
Yes, I know some may say it’s ‘the gift we can give our pets’…
Yes, the logical part of my brain got that, my emotional brain didn’t.
Coping With Unnatural Decisions
I’m sure we all wish and hope that our pets will pass away in their sleep, that the choice will be theirs, not ours.
Just gently drifting off, but the reality is usually very different. I don’t know about you but I battled and fought like crazy, to do everything to prolong a life, so that they could be in mine just a little longer.
Coming to the decision is incredibly painful, and confusing, we know as human being ‘taking another’s life’ is just plain wrong, we’re taught that from a very young age.
I know that teaching refers to another human beings life, however when it comes to our pets, it can feel like we are ‘taking it’. It’s unnatural. It’s not an everyday choice or decision.
If you had to, or have to make that choice, know that. It is not natural. What you did, or sadly have to do is not a choice we make every day in life, it’s very rare. You have no point of reference. You won’t know what to feel.
Maya had other plans. She went in her own time. She didn’t wait for the vet.
Like we will do at the end, she lost all control of her bodily functions, as I held her, us both covered in her urine, sick and excrement, she looked at me and gasped, exhaled, eyes still fixed, and exhaled again for a long time, for the last time.
In that moment, there was no pain or fear.
She went. Her body remained. But she was gone.
The pain begins…
Was she in pain? Did she suffer? Did I do the right thing? Why did I not call the vet sooner?
So much guilt. And the guilt is all part of the process of grief.
Then…why just 5 days? Did the vets make a mistake? Who can I blame? Why didn’t I see anything sooner.
So much anger. And that too is part of the process.
When’s The Right Time to Let Go?
You’ll know.
With every fibre of my being, I promise you’ll know. And it won’t be your decision. Your pet will ‘tell’ you. For non-pet owners (if you’re still here), that may be hard to understand. It’s not a sixth sense or strange phenomenon.
Those 5 days before Maya died I was like a mad woman, determined that I would do everything to make her better. Phone calls to specialists, visits to vet hospitals, research into her condition, second opinions, emails to America asking for advice from the ‘top’ cardiac vets.
She was going to get better. It wasn’t her time, but the truth was it wasn’t my time; I wasn’t ready to let her go.
Helpless, would be the word I would use.
She got worse and there was nothing I could do, I had no power or control over what was happening, nothing was preventing the inevitable.
Coping With the Pain Today
The last thing I’m going to say to you is ‘time is a healer’ or ‘it’ll get better’.
When you lose a pet, or any form of grieving, time doesn’t play out as it usually does.
It’ll get better, it might, but again what gives anybody any right to say this is how it’s going to be for you in the future?
I know I only have my own personal experience, however for me (and I know now, many others) the loss is made worse by the misunderstanding.
The pain is raw.
It hurts, bad.
In the initial days and weeks, it roots itself deep. It ‘feels’ like life will never ever be the same again.
And that is true, it won’t. It will be different.
Any permanent goodbye is going to change your life. Any goodbye where you played a part will change you.
Even when a two legged being passes, the support is generally available.
Not everyone you know will have met your pet. So you may not know what to do with the grief and pain.
Does the Pain Go?
Ah, have you heard of the Stages of Grief, psychotherapist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in her book On Death and Dying, she proposed there were five stages:
Denial – (my crazed moments, this can’t be happening)
Anger – (why now, how can it be 5 days etc)
Bargaining – (I’ll give anything to have her live 5 more years)
Depression – (days not eating, not sleeping)
Acceptance – (I can write here now about Maya)
Here’s my addition:
Time, ignore it; time only exists because we have clocks. Grieve hard. Allow it to go through all the stages, in your own time.
For me, I prefer to think of the stages as a circle. There are some days when the memories occur, or something triggers an emotion and before I know I’m having a sob. It’s only because I miss her, missing your pet is allowed. Today, tomorrow, 10, 20 years from now.
Think About Everything in Your Life Where Your Pet Was Attached
I miss her because Maya and I shared our lives for 13 and half years, she was the constant in my life.
She was ‘there’ during homelessness, the loss of grandparents, shitty relationships, breakups. I was 25 when she arrived, and 38 when she died.
I didn’t think twice about the 4k pet bill to fix her legs.
She was a pet therapy dog, there for others when their end was near. She came to work with me, she only needed to sit next to someone for two minutes before they were leaning in to her taking what they needed.
She was a only a dog. But she was my dog.
Through this bloody awful time I learnt a huge lesson about living:
- It’s short.
- There are times when the external world will leave us helpless, with no control, no power.
- We can’t change events that are inevitable.
- We can’t change the minds of people who don’t want to change their minds.
- That what we fear most usually has to be faced at somepoint.
- There are lessons in the worst moments.
- There are moments, when ‘life on our terms’ is not possible.
Please leave with one thing, all around the world there are people who know the pain you are feeling.
They can’t help you with yours. They know it’s personal.
We know you’ll have to find your own way.
We won’t rush you.
We won’t talk about rainbow bridges or running free, we know they sound good, we secretly hope that they are real, we just want you to know that your pet mattered to us.
Okay?
Please feel free to share below
If you need to reach out (no matter how long ago it was) here’s a few links:
Association for Pet Loss and Animal Bereavement, they also have a Facebook page.
In the UK there is the Blue Cross Pet Bereavement Support, Animal Samaritans Pet Bereavement Support and EASE for support during anticipated pet loss.
Books: Wallace Sife The Loss of a Pet
Your article is so timely for me. I had to “put down” my perfectly healthy schnauzer two weeks ago tomorrow. Healthy, until he wasn’t. and it happened in a matter of hours. Two weeks ago today, I picked him up from the groomer and he was perfectly fine – ran around the yard with my Westie and Schnoodle. Two hours later, I found he had thrown up breakfast from 12 hours earlier, and within 5 hours, we were at the emergency vet – a very kind man who told me that Ozzie probably had pancreatitis and his kidneys were failing. The plan was to give him IV fluids and I could probably pick him up in 24 hours. But within 4 hours, I received a call that he’d taken a “turn for the worse” and when I got there, he was pretty unresponsive. We discussed all the things we could do, which wouldn’t guarantee he’d get better and it was then that I witnessed his seizure. That’s when I knew that at 9 years, our time together was over. I couldn’t put him through any more. So I held him in my arms when he took his last breath and told him I loved him. I told him that he was going to see “Daddy”, my husband who had died 8 months before Oz. When my husband died, Ozzie grieved the worse of our three “boys”, laying at the front door awaiting his return. Perhaps he died of a broken heart. But I believe that he went from my arms to my husband’s and that they’re together again…..
Dear Kathy,
Thank you for sharing your experience and sending you love. I’m sorry for the loss of Oz, and your husband.
You know Kathy, I never actually considered what I would reply to anyone who would post a comment. The last thing is going to be all that I mentioned above.
Love, to have it, we have to also experience pain and loss. What a stange thing life can be, huh? Pets leave us too soon.
My wish is that you have support, that you have an outlet.
Thinking of you, Dawn x
Dawn – thank you for so eloquently sharing your thoughts on this topic,… as a professional in pet loss and grief, as an educator on the topic, and as a grieving pet parent myself, your words were priceless and every word yelled the truth. Thanks for sharing – and as I take pride in doing as well – giving pet parents the permission to mourn their precious pets. For in honoring the death we honor the life that was shared. Thanks again,….
Dear Coleen,
Hello there, thank you for your comment, and I thank you for being an educator on the loss to those in the pet ‘world’. :-)
With love,
Dawn
I’m just in awe of this wonderful article you wrote about the loss of your pet. My cat Bruno who is now 13 years old, is the apple of my eye. I absolutely adore him and I am his Mommy and he loves me in the same way. Because I am an extremely sensitive person I very often think of when his time comes to leave and how devastating that will be for me. At times I think I’ll never get thru it. I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t worry about tomorrow or next year as he is well now an I should live in the present and enjoy him as much as I can. But….those thoughts creep into my mind time and time again especially when I hear of a friend or acquantance who just lost their pet.
I want to thank you for your wonderful article and your website.
Blessings to you sweet lady…..
Dear Rene,
Hello there, thank you for commenting.
I ‘know’. It’s so ‘tuff. The thoughts crept in for me too way before Maya died. And they still do (I live with 2 dogs, one 13 and the other 2, and I’m ‘owned’ by 3 cats). I won’t say anything benign to you. I’ve been sitting here for 10 minutes thinking of the ‘right’ response/reply. Forgive me, I don’t have one. Except, yes, the present is all we have, it’s all that’s real. Love hard Rene, you know that already :-) Love to you and Bruno. Dawn xx
Four months ago yesterday my dog was attacked and killed by another dog whilst he was out on his daily evening walk with my mum (whilst I was at work) – just a few hundred yards from my front door. Toby was 4yrs old and I hadn’t even given a thought to what my life would be like without him. He was a Yorkie and a tiny one at that, he was happily walking along when the other dog (not on a lead) ran over and attacked him, it happened too quickly for anyone to do anything. Passers by attempted to help but to no avail. He did not stand a chance against this staffordshire bull terrior.
They were driven to the vets by one of the passers by who had attempted to help, the vets listened to his chest and said that he had passed away, they wrapped him in blankets and my mum cuddled him until she was picked up by her partner.
She then had to come to my place of work (a 5* hotel) and break the news to me – that my baby had been killed.
I listened to the news and carried on – what kind of reaction was I meant to have to that? Everyone at work insisted I went home and so I did. I stayed awake all night until it was time to go to the vets and collect his tiny body. Once I had him home I wrapped him in more blankets, gave him his favourite treat and teddy and put a red rose in his casket from a bouquet I had been sent that morning. I held him on my lap whilst I was driven the 1 hour journey to the pet crematorium, as I saw the signs for it I started to cry, knowing I would have to leave him there all on his own. My Mum chose the box that his ashes would be returned to me in – as the selection were in a different room and I could not bare to leave him just yet. Finally the time came when we must leave. I kissed his tiny head and sobbed.
Surely this whole thing was a terrible terrible nightmare and I was going to wake up????
The next week was a blur – I cannot tell you what I did, how I felt or anything that happened, I was still adamant this was a dream and I was going to wake up soon.
I did not have the choice of whether or not to put Toby to sleep which was maybe for the best as I do not believe I could have made such a decision. The police are uninterested in the matter as it was a dog on dog case so I see the other dog being walked on almost a daily basis – and the woman who the dog belongs to could not care less. I have screamed, shouted and threatened her. Only to realise this does not help Toby or me and there is not point in it. I have not given up on him I am just too tired to fight right now. I dream on a nightly basis of Toby and his awful exit from this world, I worry constantly if he was in pain? Was he scared? Was he angry at me for not being there? Or not being able to help him? I would give anything in the world for him to still be here.
People said the pain would get easier as time goes on – well 4 months later the pain is no easier, I am just numb to it at the moment, and maybe I will feel like this forever, I am not sure.
I truly believe Toby is somewhere with other members of my family who have recently passed away and they are looking after him. I will see him again one day, cuddle him, play with him, feed him, and watch him while he sleeps (and snores). Thank you for your blog I was starting to think I was going a little mad – as you know everyone says ‘Its only a Dog’ but this is not true. He was my world and still is.
Hannah, I’m so sorry for your loss. What a horrible experience. Thank you for sharing – it must’ve been really difficult for you. Did you notice the links at the bottom of the post? Oh, please use them.
(I beleive) you aren’t ‘going mad’ you are very angry and grieving — life just carries on, and you are now carrying all these emotions with nowhere to put them. Please remember grief is individual. There are NO rules. You will be grieving in your way and in your own time.
When Maya passed, a couple of days later I met a friend who said ‘I look at Deenas picture now and smile, remembering the good times, you will too!’ I swear I could have slapped them. I remember thinking, how on earth can they do that? Today, I have pictures, I see them daily. I do smile. When was the day? When did it become okay to smile and not cry and not feel guilt? I have no idea. Last month, last year, 18 months ago?
Toby can be still be your world. You don’t (I believe) ever have to worry about losing that, nobody can take that away.
Are you in the UK? The Blue Cross telephone number for support is 0800 096 6606 and they are open every day between 8.30 – 8.30 pm, they use trained volunteers. How would you feel about talking to someone? There is no shame in getting support and help through a really, really difficult time. I’m NOT a bereavement counsellor, I ‘m just sharing my personal experience. I promise there are people there WANTING to help you through this, much more than what I can. Let me know how you go.
You take care, lots of love.
Dawn
Thanks for reaching out to me first about WordPress and then about my dog. I love the idea of doing a website tribute to Teddy.. He was also 13 and a half and in some ways the decision was harder because there was no single event that made me know it was his time – he was just declining and having increasing hip pain and difficulty finding a comfortable position to sleep. Monday June 11th he couldn’t find a way to sleep that night and he kept coming to me for comfort and I could just pet him – I could not make the pain go away. I was afraid I’d lose him a year ago but skillful work by his wonderful vet and a friend who knew massage kept him going for another year. Tuesday I woke up in tears and very upset. I had decided inside that it was time. I won’t describe all the symptoms but I had already started grieving. Called the vet for an appointment the next day and I spent my last day with Teddy on Tuesday. The weather was perfect and we did all our favorite things and we spent the day together happily.
Now what I haven’t said is that I was convinced Teddy was a saint. The way he came to us (I’ll describe that on the tribute site – it was very much a “meant to be” event) was marvelous. He was an abandoned puppy, the last of his litter at the shelter. His picture was in the paper, a last attempt to get him adopted before putting him down to make more room. As soon as we saw the picture we knew and rushed in to adopt him. It’s surprisingly hard to describe here in words but he was the best dog I have ever know much less having the privilege to be with for a good, long life. I have never bonded with a living being as I did with Teddy. He loved just to be with me. He knew what he wanted and was assertive about it but never pushy. He was gentle and loving of spirit and loved people and animals alike. Much more could and will be said but when we had the ceremony (forgive the word but his vet loved him too and putting him down was so peaceful and gentle that it seemed ceremonial) and he was gone they let me stay with him as long as i wanted. For an hour I stroked him and talked to him and cried over his fur that still seemed so there. I poured out my feelings for him; how much he meant to me, how wonderful he was and the hope that something like the rainbow bridge was true.
Over the next weeks until by trip to Alaska I’d get up and as soon as my feet hit the floor I was struck by his absence and I cried for hours each morning and talked to him moaning that he wasn’t there – why wasn’t he there?! He was my best friend and companion and loved with a simplicity and straightforwardness that is rare in human relationships. I didn’t know whether I had done the right thing – was I too early? It’s impossible to say. People asked me if I was getting another dog (as if they are interchangeable parts – take out one dog, plug in another). It didn’t bother me at all what people said. Many were kind. Many had little idea what I was going through. I had my own grief and in some way an ongoing relationship with him and what others said meant nothing to me (except I liked some of the kind words I got). Teddy was a “once in a lifetime” dog and irreplaceable. Fortunately I am older myself (haven’t bothered to update my Facebook photo so don’t be fooled by it) and maybe won’t have that long myself. At the vets, if I could have lied down next to Teddy and gone with him, I would have done so gladly. But I do have others who care for me and depend on me so that may have been selfish.
Being far away at my sister’s helps some but it doesn’t take much to bring the tears (such as writing this). Teddy was such a remarkable presence in my life, like no other pet I have had that how can I not be grateful for knowing him and holding him and seeing the happiness on his face when he saw I had cheese in my hand (or when I walked in the door). It is just so wonderful having known and taken care of him (and having him take care of me in his way). I do not know much about spiritual things (truly agnostic in the sense of not knowing) but I sure hope we will be reunited some time some way. I’m looking forward to creating the tribute site though I am not sure I am up to doing him justice.
Thanks for this blog and opportunity to write this as inadequate as the post is and I’m glad I put that post on AB and getting to connect with you, Dawn.
It will be an honour to help you. I can do nothing to help with the pain, nothing. I am so sorry, Robin. And no, what you wrote is not inadequate, plus I’m getting a feel for him already. I ‘get’ everything you wrote. How do I end these comments? Lots of love, loads. Dawn xxx
Thanks. Not sure when it will be – I have a bad tendency to inundate myself with projects and my confusion due to Teddy’s loss doesn’t help.
I tell you though my biggest fear is of letting him go too early – that if he could have talked or known what was about to happen he would have said, “Yes I’m in pain but I want to have more time with you before I go.” I know he loved my company and I can not know how bad the pain was relative to his desire to live. I can only console myself by noting that at least I didn’t wait until he was in misery. He went while he still had some quality and enjoyment of life and in a way I think that’s good. He didn’t suffer too much and I can remember him in a positive way and not as an animal in agony.
Thanks again,
Robin A.
Dawn. That is probably the most emotional thing I have read in ages. I know that most people will not understand the relationship many of us have with our pets. It is no nice to see that there are many who do. A very eloquent piece Dawn. You hit the nail on the head. Dreading that day myself. Nobody loves me as much as my Mac and I would do anything for her. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Hey you, you’re welcome. It IS the price we pay, I was a mess Iain, I needed to write it for me I think and I still believe it’s so misunderstood.
One day, maybe meet that beastie of yours :-) xxx
thank you for this piece. My friend Eddie had to go a few weeks ago. It hurts. Bad. He was the most deserving creature this world has ever produced. His absence leaves this world a little less bright. I miss him. I feel so guilty for bringing him in. I think he was in renal failure. I feel angry and sad and lonely. I feel bad that I’m more upset than when my grandmother died. I feel bad because honestly I loved my dog more than my grandma. And it is no comfort when others tell me I did good to put him down. I killed him. He was my baby. And I had him killed. I didn’t do enough. Not as much as he deserved. I wish I could have him back. Nothing will ever be the same. Thank you for not trying to placate it.
Love, Moo