Grieving the Death of a Pet Part 4: Support

This is part four in my four part series on grief and pet loss.  Click the links to read Part 1, Part 2 or Part 3

“An emotional pressure cooker” is how Becky Murray describes the grieving process. When you are grieving you are building up stress and emotional pressure you didn’t have before the loss of your pet. Just like a pressure cooker you have to release some of that pressure from time to time. Finding a release is the best way to keep yourself moving forward during this difficult time. Talk therapy, support groups, books on pet loss and even writing are all healthy ways to release some of that pressure.

One of the ways I coped was to make a photo albumn

However you grieve, it is important that you don’t do it alone. Find someone you can talk to about your loss. Build your support group wisely. Be aware there are some people who may not understand your grief. Find friends, family, co-workers who have pets and who can understand the loss you feel. Murray advises you “build your support group wisely.” If your best friend just simply doesn’t understand why you are so upset about the loss of Fluffy it’s ok. Talk to someone else about the pain and the grief. You can always talk to the staff at your veterinarian’s office. Having worked at two vet’s offices myself I can tell you that everyone there loves your pet almost as much as you do and most are more than willing to talk about the loss you are feeling.  They can also be helpful if you think it might be time to let your pet go.  Talk to them, they can help you with the loss and the guilt you feel. They have been there, they absolutely understand. Your veterinarian’s office might have resources to help you come with the loss, such as information on local support groups.

As wonderful as it is to have a supportive network to help you get through this loss, there will be people who don’t understand what you are going through. Some people in your life haven’t experienced the loss of a pet. You might get “it’s just an animal” responses from family and co-workers. Be prepared for callus remarks from people who have not experienced that loss, says Murray. She suggests having “canned responses” to some of the callus questions you might get asked. Don’t be afraid to say you have experienced “a loss in the family” without elaborating. After all it’s true.

If you don’t have friends and family to support you, there are support groups that can help you talk through the pain.  Something I didn’t think about, but Murray mentioned, is that support groups can be helpful for people with end of life concerns for their pet. They can help you prepare for what you face ahead and many pet owners will be able to share your concerns as you face end of life decisions you’re your cat or dog.

Just as everyone grieves differently, everyone processes that grief differently. Perhaps talking to someone isn’t what helps you.  There are dozens of books on the loss of a pet, the grieving processes. One of those books might help. Veterinary Specialty Center, where Becky Murray works, has a list of books to help those grieving the loss of their pet. You can find it here Remember not every book works for every person. Perhaps books aren’t even the right option for you. There are a number of websites and articles (like this one) where you can read about other’s grief and what others have felt. When I was preparing for Muffin’s death it helped me immensely to know that there were other people who felt the same pain, confusion and guilt at losing their cat or dog.

Creative outlets such as writing, painting or drawing can be useful for mourning as well. When Muffin died I wrote her a letter. I wrote down everything I felt: the guilt, the sorrow, the fears. I apologized to her and told her I hoped she knew how much I loved it. It was one of the most cathartic things I did. I did not share that letter with anyone; it is still sitting on the hard drive of my computer. It is between Muffin and I. I encourage you to write your words down, draw that picture, make a ceramic figure of your cat, whatever it is that fuels your creativity and helps you mourn the loss of your furry friend.

Poplo’s page has my favorite pictures of him, plus some embellishments that highlighted important things in his life.

 

 

On Sam’s page I have the dates of his birth and death.

 

There are so many different ways to grieve. The important thing is to remember the love you felt for your animal(s) and to take care of yourself. Please find someone to talk to, to share the memories of your loved one; to share the joy and the grief that goes with those memories.  Below I do have a list of resources you may find beneficial if you are looking for more information or support resources in your area.

 

Resources

Association for Pet Loss & Bereavement 

ASPCA/Pet Loss 

VSC’s Client Counseling Page

PetLossCanada.com some fabulous resources here, regardless of where you live

Petloss.net  has some wonderful articles as well as a list of counseling services and support groups in each state!

Hotlines:

Michigan State University College of Veterinary Medicine Hotline 517-432-2696

CVMA Wings Pet Loss Support Group and Helpline: (630) 325-1600

ASPCA Pet Loss Support Program: 877-474-3310

Anti-Cruelty Society: call Tammie Bouschor at (312) 644-8338 ext. 344 or e-mail tbouschor@anticruelty.org.

 

And  in case the grief hurts that much: National Suicide Prevention Life Line  800-273-8255

 

 

Grieving the Death of a Pet Part 3: Guilt

This is part three  in my four part series on grief and pet loss.  Click the links to read Part 1 or Part 2

Guilt. Grief. They seem to go hand in hand.  Every time I have grieved for a cat I have felt guilt.  Each time I have wondered what I  could have done differently. How I could have changed things. Did I do the right thing?

“Guilt is one of  the most common response to loss” Murray told me. Guilt is so common, she says, because we are used to controlling everything about our pets life.  We decide when they get fed and what they eat. We decide how and when they play or go for walks. We control their medical care and when they receive it. We tell them where they can sleep (though, for cats whether they listen is another story). But we can’t control death.  Sometimes we can decide if and when we are going to euthanize them, in the case of sick animals, but even then our control is so limited. We can’t control how they respond to medication, or if they get sick. And that can be terrifying.

When Sam died it was very unexpected. He had been in to the vet a few weeks prior for a cardiac ultrasound. He had a heart arrhythmia, but minor. Both the cardiologist and his vet felt that it was of minor concern. Neither of them thought he needed to be on heart medications at that time; there was a good chance his heart condition was related to his newly diagnosed hyperthyroidism. After speaking with his vet (a good friend of mine still)  we agreed to treat him for hyperthyroidism and recheck him to see if that worked. Before we had a chance to get him back for a recheck he died. It was most likely a heart attack or some such thing. He went peacefully in his sleep.

To make matters worse in the days before Sam died Crash had been horribly sick. He had a pancreatitis flair-up and I was so focused on him. The day Sam died he was acting strange, but I decided I would just keep an eye on him, it was nothing worth rushing to the vet for. I know that even if I had taken him to the vet there is a strong likely hood he still would have died. It doesn’t keep me from feeling guilty.

For weeks afterwards I felt guilty. I blamed myself, I blamed the doctors, I blamed myself some more. I was so angry. I kept telling myself I should have put him on medicine, I should have taken him to the vet, I should have paid better attention to him.  All the  “shoulds” and “if only’s” added up. I was angry. I jumped every time the phone rang.

The poem on the front of this photo album helped me a lot.

With guilt we seem to think if we could figure out what we did wrong we could fix it and get our pet(s) back, says Murray. But we can’t.

Muffin’s illness came on very suddenly, and for a month I tried to treat her. She would rally and then plateau. Rally and plateau. She fought and fought and had spirit in her eyes until the last moment. It was horrible. I couldn’t make the decision, I didn’t know what to do. Now that she is gone I feel guilt over the thought that I kept her alive too long. I worry that I should have euthanized her sooner. I wasn’t ready to euthanize her though. I wasn’t ready to let go, and she kept fighting. Murray reassured me there is “no perfect, right time” to euthanize a sick pet.

Murray assured me that what I went through was normal. She said when we are grieving, or getting ready to say goodbye we are under stress. When we are under stress we think differently, especially when emotions are involved. After all “who wants to think rationally with a loved one.”  Listen to the advice of your veterinarian, try to listen to your heart, and watch your pet. Muffin told me when she was ready to go, that last day she told me. She told me with her body language, with the fire that had gone out of her eyes. She told me she was tired and ready. And I knew at that moment it was time. Watch your pet for signs, and listen to your heart because you know your pet better than anyone. It has been my own experience as a veterinary assistant and as a grieving pet owner that doing these things helps to lessen the guilt. Lessening the guilt helps to lessen the pain and makes grieving a bit easier. At least, from my own experience. There will always be guilt though. You will always wonder what you might have done differently. Talk about this with someone. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. Share your concerns with people who love and support you.

 

Tomorrow I will post my final entry in the series. Finding Support.

Grieving the Death of a Pet Part 2: Coping

This is part two in my four part series on grief and pet loss.  Click the link to read Part 1.

I had the chance to sit down with Becky Murray, a Licensed Professional Counselor at Veterinary Specialty Center in Buffalo Grove. We discussed the death of pets and the many ways that humans grief their furry friends. Murray agrees that grief is a “Bizarre  way of being” in part because it is so different from our normal way of being. We are used to schedules, routines, and a linear way of thinking. We complete tasks and move on to the next one. Grief is not like that. With grief the thoughts, memories and feelings are not linear. They can pop into our heads at any moment. Grief is also not something you finish, and move on from; not like the events that make up our daily lives. You can’t allot a set amount of time to grieve and then say “ok I’m done, on to the next thing!” Grief is not something you can check off your “to-do” list. As anyone who has lost a loved one—human or pet—can tell you, life is not the same after the loss.

Grief and loss change people. They change life; which is not to say that life doesn’t go on. It just isn’t quite the same. There are the immediate changes—not having your furry friend greeting you when you come home from work, the empty cat bed by heater, the food bowl you don’t have to fill.  And there are the larger changes; adjusting mentally and emotionally to losing your friend; the knowledge that you will not see them again (at least not in this life, in the form you are used to.)  These are huge changes. It will take time.

I made a memorial shelf for my cats who have passed.

In the days after my cats died I felt like life was never going to get better.  I didn’t know how I could go on living after such a loss.  According to Murray, that is normal.  When we are grieving it feels like we are doing everything so poorly, she says. “After the loss of a pet your goal should simply be to function a little better each day” says Murray. You can’t compare yourself to who you were before the loss of your pet. Instead, compare yourself to who you were the day after the loss.

What is important, she says, is that you function a little bit better over time. After we euthanized Muffin I spent the next 24 hours crying hysterically. I held her bed in a death grip; I slept with her bed and some of her toys, and I cried hysterically. I did not leave my house for two days. But on the second day I went longer between crying. I didn’t cry hysterically. I was slowly finding peace settling back in my soul. Even after the tears stopped flowing, there was a sting in my heart every time I realized Muffin wasn’t sleeping on her favorite chair or next to the pillows on my mom’s bed. I knew she wasn’t but you get into habits of expectation and it takes time to break those habits.  When my Sam died in 2009 I was at work. My parents called me to tell me he had passed and for weeks afterwards I panicked and tensed up every time my cell phone rang. I was terrified that something had happened to someone else.

I told Murray my stories of grieving my cats and mentioned that each time it was different. The pain was different, the thoughts and emotions were slightly different. She said that was normal. “Every loss is different” she says. This applies not just to each loss we experience—the loss of Sam left me numb and shocked for days, while Muffin’s death left me an emotional wreck—but also the how each person experiences their loss. While I cried hysterically over my cats’ deaths, other people may not cry in public. Some people want tangible memories of their cats while some don’t want anything physical to remember their cat by. Some people adopt another cat right away, some will never adopt another cat again.  Murray says however you grieve “as long as it’s not hurting you, not other others it’s ok.” Each person grieves differently but most of these people are experiencing what Murray calls normal grief.  Perhaps you expected to be crying hysterically, but find you can’t cry. Perhaps you don’t feel a crippling grief the way I did. That’s ok.   Murray says the way we grieve is “not a measure of our love” for our pets. We all grieve differently. Don’t judge yourself if  you grieve differently from your partner, your siblings, your friends.

Beyond normal grief, there is complicated grief.  Complicated grief is when you find you are not getting better; you are not getting through the grief. If you find yourself dealing with complicated grief, or you know someone who is, please reach out for support. A licensed therapist can help work through the grief. However you may find that something as simple as reaching out to a support group can help with the grief.

Resources:

PetLossHelp.org

PetLossCanada.com

ASPCA/Pet Loss

Association for Pet Loss & Bereavement 

Veterinary Specialty Center- Counseling Services – You can find books and support hotlines here.

 

Phone Numbers: CVMA Pet Loss Helpline and Support Group: (630) 325-1600

Grieving the Death of a Pet Part 1: Grief is Weird

Grief. Grief is weird.  It has been almost 5 months since I lost Muffin to cancer; I thought was past the worst of the grief.  I was not “over” the loss of Muffin, I hadn’t forgotten her, but the sting of the loss wasn’t so great. I wasn’t breaking down in tears whenever I thought of her. In fact, Muffin wasn’t in my thoughts much at all.  I was thinking instead of Crash, Sneakers, Mama and Little Black. I was thinking of work, bills, life. Then I changed out the litter boxes. Muffin had this thing about clean litter boxes. Whenever I brought up a freshly washed litter box with new litter in it, she would appear from nowhere to use the box. Within minutes of me putting the clean box down Muffin would appear and “christen” it. I thought of this memory a few weeks back when I was changing out the boxes. It was a good memory and I smiled a bit before the floodgates opened and I got smacked with the emotions all over again. I was so sad. From that moment on I was suddenly being reminded of all the goofy things that Muffin and Sam did.  I would be doing something completely unrelated and suddenly be crying over my lost cats. I could be in the kitchen cooking and remember how Sam had to sit on the cutting board (we won’t think about how sanitary that was…). Or  I would be drifting to sleep and remember my last moments with Muffin, the agony I was feeling at that moment. So I repeat, grief is weird.

Working in the world of veterinary hospitals and animal rescue groups, I am confronted with grief on a regular basis. I have seen so many people lose a beloved pet. I have seen so many different responses to that loss. Some, like me, cry hysterically as they ease their beloved pet’s exit from this life. Others are much more practical about their loss. They understand that having pets means loss. That is the sad reality, our furry friends don’t live as long as we do, so we are going to lose them.  Some people cry, others don’t. Some need to be with their pet to the very last moment, while others don’t want to be in the room for the euthanasia procedure. Some people want ashes back, others do not. And ya’ know what? That’s just fine. Everyone grieves differently.

I love the idea of the Rainbow Bridge, and my cats waiting to be with me again.

I’ve had coworkers who told me they couldn’t look at pictures of their cat for years after she died. I had one coworker who threw a party in memory of his cat, because he was so loved by so many. Some people want to hold on to the ashes of their beloved pet, keep them on a shelf with a picture and a collar. Others want the ashes to spread in a meaningful spot, perhaps a childhood home or perhaps they even want to bury their cat’s remains somewhere. The first cat I lost as an adult was a cat who was in hospice care with me. He was one of my favorite cats from the shelter I worked at and the two of us had a great bond. When he died I got his ashes back and spread them in a little pond near my house. It was a perfect spot for him because he was obsessed with water, especially running water.  We all respond differently to the loss of a pet.

The important part of grief is not how you grieve, but that you do it. Grief is a painful experience, and it shakes the ground on which you live.  I was grieving for Muffin before she even died. The anticipatory grief was hard, but the grief after the loss was harder. When I was looking for resources to help me through my grief nothing seemed to fit my needs. So, I am going to write about pet grief. I will write what I needed to read at the time. Hopefully it will help someone with the loss of his/her pet; if not, it has helped me grieve, which is a good start.

 

Articles on Grief & Death:

Euthanasia: A Vet’s Perspective

The Anniversary Reaction: Grieving Your Pet