Pet Bereavement…
As a counsellor I don’t generally disclose personal information about myself or what is going on in my life - unless I feel it’s something that would benefit my client in some way. This is because my experience of going through a similar thing to them, will be unique to me. However, there is something to be said about sharing an experience with somebody, that enables us to empathise just that little bit deeper, I believe. Therefore I have decided to write this blog, openly and honestly, with the hope that anybody who is in pain after losing their pet - recently or a long time ago - may feel some comfort in identifying with what I’m going through and feeling.
I think it’s important to show that as a Counsellor who can hold other people’s pain, it doesn’t make me immune to it myself. I still have worries, life lessons, self-sabotaging patterns that I repeat even though I have the awareness to break them. I still feel the waves of grief from those I’ve lost. Which brings me to the topic of this blog….
Our cat died last week.
Mitten arrived in my life in a box with a blue bow around his neck on my 30th birthday. Apparently he chose us (something I hear from other cat owners a lot) when he wouldn’t get off of my partner’s arm in the pet shop.
I’ve always had a special bond with him, he’s witnessed 12 years of life with us. Lived in four different homes and seen the arrival of our two children. I met him as a Miss and became a Mrs. He spent hours sitting next to me while I did my Counselling degree and would always lay across my yoga mat while I tried to practice!
The house feels so empty without the thumping of his paws on the floor. I arrive upstairs to face a feeling of emptiness, as I realise he’s no longer in his favourite place laying on my side of the bed.
I keep going to open the back door incase he is out or wants to go out… then the wave of grief hits me again. I won’t be holding the door open for him again.
In the evenings, when I sit on the sofa to watch TV or read, I’m aware of the space on my lap he would sit.
In the middle of the night, there’s a space on the bed where he once lay by my side. Year after year.
I keep going to feed him or check his water.
I play the events of his sudden illness and trip to the vet that would be the last, over and over in my mind. I bargain “what if” scenarios over and over.
When I wake, the realisation that he’s gone and not calling for me to let him out, hits me again. The physical affects of grief apparent in the familiar lower back pain and exhaustion that I had constantly in the months after losing my Dad. When I’m asleep I’m not thinking about it, so the desire to sleep hits me whenever I try to stop distracting myself with “doing”.
I berate myself for the times I didn’t pay attention to him or moved him as I got up.
I would do anything to rewind the clock and hug him for that bit longer.
Tell him how much I appreciated his unconditional love.
I tell myself I can’t get another pet and go through this heartache again.
But this is the price we pay for love.
Grief and pain is that price.
I wouldn’t take a second back of the love and life I shared with Mitten. I’ll always miss him but will always remember the love and bond we shared. That is a blessing that makes this pain worth it.
Losing a beloved pet is heartbreaking. They’re valued family members and part of a relationship of unconditional love, that is unique in many ways. The waves of grief from the loss will keep rolling, until time slows the tide a little.
If you’ve recently (or not recently) lost a pet, give yourself all the time you need to heal. If healing means getting a new pet - not to replace but to help move forward - try not to feel guilty about this. If avoiding getting another animal is your way of dealing with your loss - that’s okay too.
Sometimes pet bereavement is minimised by some, this can leave the bereaved person feeling like their pain is disproportionate to how they “should” be feeling. Shed the “shoulds!” There are no rules for this. Nobody will understand the depth of your loss and it’s impact on you, like you do. Be kind to yourself.
It might help to find things that help you to remember - a memory box of your pet’s things; a photobook or framed picture; or maybe walking in a place you shared walks. We are enjoying looking back of photographs of Mitten in various boxes and strange positions and giving the best cuddles and snuggles.
Remember the healing nature of sharing your story. However you need to: about your pet’s character or what happened when they died, things you miss about them. Telling our story is cathartic and healing.
I hope sharing my story about the loss of our lovely cat, might help with my healing and also help you if you needed to read it.
If you would like free support with your loss, call or email the Blue Cross Pet Bereavement Service:
Blue Cross - 08000966606 (everyday 8.30-20.30)
Or email them: pbssmail@bluecross.org.uk (24 hour response time)
