Grieving guardians seek peace and understanding

By Carreen Maloney

When my cat Magnum died, the world as I knew it paled. In the fifteen years we’d spent together, he was a better friend to me than any human being, a loyal and loving companion and my only constant. For years I had recoiled from even fleeting thoughts of saying goodbye.

Magnum rode the bumps on life’s road with me without fail, offering his unconditional devotion to ease any pain and heartache that came my way. I moved relentlessly from city to city, but when I’d open his carrier and watch him stroll out, I’d know instantly that I was home. When I was sad, he licked the tears off my face and rolled around on his back purring persistently until I had no choice but to cheer up and laugh at his antics. Even at the end, as I sobbed into his fur while he slipped away, he unselfishly summoned up strength to purr weakly for my benefit. I bawled for nine days straight when Magnum was no longer there to stop the flood of tears.

Looking through my eyes, there will never be a greater cat than Magnum. I’m not alone in my sentiments. There are millions who steadfastly believe the same of their cat, dog, rabbit or other companion animal. The death of an animal can evoke grief that is startling in its power, bringing a deep sense of loss that is often misunderstood and trivialized. A pet’s passing sparks a process that can differ in many ways from the loss of a human being, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear, says Nancy Lee, a graduate student in mental health counseling at Bellingham’s Western Washington University. Lee talks about Bubba, her Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Hound who died of cancer four years ago.

“It’s not that I don’t miss my mother or my sister, but the grief was different,” says Lee. “I didn’t see them every day like my dog. With an animal, it’s a constant process – it’s their dish, their toys, their fur, their greeting. He was there hopping up and down every time I came home. After he died, coming home seemed empty.”

She recalls falling apart the day she drove out to bury Bubba on her property. When it was time to take him out of the truck, she wailed “like I was being killed.” Bubba had been her rock, getting her through hard times that included a divorce.

“I still expected him to be there when I got home,” she said.

Dr. Karen Rounds, Whatcom Humane Society’s veterinarian, says the unwavering and faithful nature of an animal’s steady companionship means it can take a long time for the reality of their death to sink in.

“You wonder for a moment – where’s the dog? You forget that they’re dead,” says Rounds, who recently lost Libby, her Labrador Shepherd cross. “The dog is always there, dependent on you, invariably happy to see you. They are unconditional in their love for you.”

Unfortunately for the bereaved, the loss of a cherished pet doesn’t tend to inspire the same supportive gestures as the death of a human loved one. Customary and meaningful traditions that make grievers feel less isolated aren’t observed, such as funerals and eulogies, cards and gifts of comfort food. Supportive well-wishers can be rare. Some comments that must be endured are downright insensitive, such as “It was just a cat/dog”, or “You can get another one.”

Despite risking these callous reactions, sadness shouldn’t be bottled in. Seek out the sympathetic ear of a fellow animal lover who respects and validates your feelings about your pet. Talking about your loss and reminiscing about the good times will provide comfort during the healing process. Allow yourself to cry. Take a day off work if you need it. If family and friends don’t show proper compassion, pet loss hotlines or online support forums are plentiful and can fill the void.

Just knowing other people appreciated your pet’s personality is a luxury that those who have lost a pet don’t have, says Secrette Miller, a Seattle-area animal rescuer. Last year, Miller was awash in grief when three of her own cats and two of her fosters died from a variety of medical ailments.

“When a person dies, you can talk to people about that person, but other people may not have known your pets,” Miller says. “With a human being, you get support. Going through the loss of an animal is a slow process, and you’re going through it by yourself.”

Psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler Ross, author of the classic book On Death and Dying that was first published in 1969, outlined five stages of grief that are now firmly entrenched in contemporary thought, and they can be applied to any catastrophic loss including the death of a pet. The stages are mentioned everywhere from medical journals to magazines, music, movies and television. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. People don’t necessarily go through the steps in order, or experience all five, but Dr. Kübler Ross contends that everyone experiences at least two. Cycling through the stages, even many times, is normal and healthy.

When facing the death of a companion animal, another stage might be present – guilt. Pets depend on their owners completely for sustenance and survival, and their guardians must frequently make the gut-wrenching decision to end an animal’s suffering with euthanasia. Such an emotionally painful but compassionate choice isn’t an option for human loved ones. While this final act of love is the only humane course of action for an animal who is suffering, the guilt lingers. Nearly everyone interviewed for this story expressed guilt regarding the euthanasia of their animal, declaring either that they believe their animal died too soon, or too late. In Miller’s case, she expressed both: she worried her cat Mama was euthanized too soon, and that Buddy’s passing wasn’t quick enough.

“I wanted to give him a chance to rally,” Miller says.

In my cat’s case, the diagnosis was swift and final. Just one day after he first showed symptoms of pain, tests showed Magnum’s organs were ravaged by an aggressive cancer. He was fading fast. The excruciating decision to end his suffering was the only humane option. Still I questioned myself. Was the cancer truly as advanced as tests had shown? Had everything reasonable been done to save him? In an effort to get closure and avoid the guilt I knew would hit later, I made an unusual request. When Magnum’s body was cold, I asked my veterinarian to surgically open his chest for me. The cancer was everywhere, spongy tissue that originated in his pancreas and attacked multiple vital organs. I found peace.

“Everybody is so hard on themselves,” says Dr. Kimberly Barron, owner of Northshore Veterinary Hospital in Bellingham. “If the animal was still eating, they believe they did it too soon. If the animal is in terrible shape, they think they waited too long. Nine out of ten people do it at the perfect time.”

The timing of your animal’s euthanasia should be discussed with your veterinarian, who can weigh in with medical information on your pet’s prognosis and physical condition. But in the end, the unselfish decision to perform this final act of love for your pet will rest in your hands. Consider factors that describe your animal’s daily quality of life. Is he mobile and breathing without difficulty? Is he eating? Does your pet appear happy and enjoy food, toys and affection from his family? If the animal has stopped responding to medical treatment and is in constant pain or discomfort, you should not prolong his suffering to ease your own.

Barron sums it up succinctly. “If there’s nothing that can be done and the animal is not completely comfortable, and if the owners are ready, it’s time.”

Discuss the process with your veterinarian. Some will make house calls so your pet can spend his final moments in the comfort of his home. If you feel up to it, being there to comfort your pet can help you achieve closure.

Guardians also report feeling guilt when an animal dies accidentally or suddenly. Karen Tillman came home three years ago to find her eight-year-old Rottweiler Gorf dead in his fenced enclosure. He had died of torsion, otherwise known as bloat, a painful twisting of the stomach that quickly becomes fatal if untreated.

“I felt guilty, like I had failed him because I wasn’t there,” says Tillman, lead customer service staff member for the Whatcom Humane Society.

The grief over the loss of an animal isn’t limited to his human family. Cases of animals pining for deceased companions are well-documented, although Barron notes that she has also seen the opposite – an animal who blossoms when a competing pet in the household disappears.

WHS outreach director Laura Clark has witnessed an animal grieving over a lost companion firsthand. When her dog Jesse died, Lucas changed. The surviving dog gained ten pounds, his happy-go-lucky confidence disappeared, and he grew fearful.

“He wouldn’t get off his bed,” Clark says. “We had to force him to go outside. Week after week, he would lie on the porch and mope, or he would just stand in the yard and look out. Jesse was like his mom. When she died, she took my soul with her, and my dog’s soul died, too.”

Clark adds that while Lucas is “not the same dog,” his spirit has picked up considerably since she found him a playmate, a two-year-old rescued Red Australian Shepherd named Ginger.

Like Lucas, many of us will never be quite the same after losing our treasured friends. Finding personal ways to celebrate the memories can soothe feelings of sorrow. WHS executive director Penny Cistaro remembers that when her dog Andrew died in 1991, she grew driven to track down all photographs of him that had ever been taken, even going as far as to contact an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in years. Creating the resulting photo albums of Andrew was therapeutic.

“Grief is personal,” Cistaro says. “Everybody deals with it individually. You have to do whatever gives you comfort.”

There are many positive and rewarding ways to memorialize a departed companion animal. While the pain of loss may make it tempting to clear out your pet’s items at once, consider saving a few items for your memory box like a collar or a lock of fur. Photo tributes can be framed or organized into collages or collections. You can have a portrait painted of your pet. Tap into your creativity and write a poem, a story or letters, or keep a journal. Craft a statue in your pet’s likeness, or shop for items that remind you of your pet. Obtain a special urn or box for your pet’s ashes. Your garden can be a peaceful place to remember your pet. Place a stone, statue or personalized stepping stone there.

Perhaps the best way to pay tribute to your pet is to help animals that are less fortunate than he was. Contribute to an animal welfare organization or shelter in your animal’s name, and when you have healed, consider adopting a rescued animal. While another pet will never replace the love you lost, they will find a new place in your heart.

“They bring so much joy into our life,” Miller says. “As hard as it is to lose them, it’s worth it.”

Carreen Maloney writes about animal issues and runs Fuzzy Town. She looks forward to the day when all animals are loved and protected like the ones mentioned in the above article. She can be contacted at carreen@fuzzytown.com.