To Those We've Lost

"No one loves you like your dog."

- Me

A couple weeks ago, I wrote how dogs help us tackle loss, but what do we do when it's the dog we've lost?  Who helps us then?

Suddenly it seems that every day I see a new post on the collie-centric social media I follow about someone losing their precious pet.  We talk a lot about the Rainbow Bridge to console ourselves and believe that not only are our pets happy and free of pain, but that we will be reunited.  Yet we mourn.  And deeply.

People sometimes feel shy about admitting how deeply they feel the loss of a pet around me if they know about my history.  And, yes, I will confess that losing a daughter is the hardest, more surreal loss I've ever suffered.  But, I mourn my pets too, and when I see those posts on social media, I often get teary eyed and my heart breaks for the family.  So I get it.  Don't be shy.  Let it all out.  Because losing a pet is a painful, gut wrenching experience - even for someone like me.  And sometimes it's hard for the rest of the world to realize that, which can make it even worse because we feel alone in our grief.

I found an article on PsychCentral.com that sums it up perfectly, at least for me.  We lose a lot when we lose a pet.  We care for them like they are our child.  They love us with the wisdom of a parent.  And they listen to us like they are our best friends.  Our relationship with our pets is so complex that losing one is like losing an entire support system.

Yet our employers don't recognize that in most cases.   I've had to put dogs down and then come straight back to work.  I've had to take client calls while I'm at the vet actually.  While I think there is a trend for some cutting edge employers to recognize pets in the office as a great perk for their staff (which is smart - pet owners can work far longer hours if their furbaby is at their side, and will be happier about it to boot), I am personally not aware of any that allow time off for grieving pet owners.

Our friends and family that are not pet lovers will look at us like we're nuts.  They find it hard to understand because a pet to them is like a belonging, not a member of the family.  We may or may not even have the support of a spouse or our immediate family.  We're lucky if we do, but it's not that rare if we don't.

For those reasons, social media has become an important outlet because it allows us to reach out to others who do get it to the level we do.  Which is great, but at the end of the day, we still have to do the work of grieving, which is a very personal and painful experience. 

I've been asked, not unkindly, when then put yourself through it again and again?  It's a fair question.   After my mother put our family dog down she was over it and never even entertained the idea of another pet.  I look around me at the three dogs I have now - all young and healthy (well, Geddy needs to shed a few pounds) - and realize I'll have to say goodbye to them in likely rapid succession about a decade or so from now.  And those years will fly by.  All I can do to answer that question is to tell people that the joy and love I will experience in those years will be worth the pain of the loss.  If you're reading this, you likely understand.

We owe a debt of gratitude to those pets we've lost.  They comforted us when we were sad, they celebrated with us when we were happy, they slept with us when we were sick.  They watched us cry when our team lost in the playoffs without judging us for being silly about sports (well, mine did that anyway).  We tried to repay it by chasing them around the house with ear drops, cleaning their teeth, wiping down their paws when they were muddy and throwing the ball to them for hours on end.  It's a relationship like no other.  So, go ahead and grieve.  And don't hesitate to use my shoulder to cry on, because I get it.

Dedicated to: Cheyenne, Ripley and all my other furbabies
waiting with them on the Rainbow Bridge