Lessons Learned From Losing Our Family Dog
It was the week before Christmas and the quality of life of Gunner, our family dog, had quickly and suddenly taken a turn for the worse. We had known for a few months that he had lung cancer but the vet said he wasn’t in pain and to give him the best life we could. My husband and I came to the conclusion one Monday afternoon after noticing several changes in Gunner, that giving him the best life also meant sparing him from the terrible side effects of cancer spreading. It was a heart-breaking decision to make but we knew it was the best thing we could do for him.
Gunner
Sporting his first sweater and knowing he was crushing the look.
Now I don’t consider myself a grief counselor or an expert on grief, loss, or death. I have sat with people of different ages, cultures, and belief systems and have found that what people need or want after they’ve experienced a loss varies from person to person. I have a short list of definite no-no’s for dealing with grief such as using substances to numb emotions or engaging in any activity as a way to distract, avoid, or suppress uncomfortable emotions. But other than that, I generally give people space to figure out what they need and to grieve in the way they feel works best for them. So my intent here isn’t to give you a list of to-do’s for dealing with pet grief. My experience very well might not feel relevant to yours and my needs as well as my family’s needs may also be different than yours. But I did want to share what I learned from losing my dog and how we dealt with the pain.
1) Sitting with your emotions is hard to do if you are busy.
I was tempted to work the day we were to put Gunner down and I planned to send the kids off to school. I rationalized that routine would keep us distracted and make things easier. Admittedly, my goal had been to distract and avoid the hard emotions we were bound to face that day. But my husband convinced me to let the kids stay home and talked me into canceling my sessions for the day. It was a slow morning where the kids got to take Gunner for a walk while I wrapped up some emails and then I got to walk him one last time. There were lots of tears and heavy emotions and I’m grateful that we were at home to allow for the sudden bursts of sadness that would come over us. No one had to hold back tears or pretend everything was ok. It wasn’t ok, and expecting us to act as if it were would have been too much and unnecessary to ask for.
2) I didn’t say “Don’t be sad” to my kids.
I believe that as a society we tend to feel uncomfortable around other people’s uncomfortable emotions and that discomfort propels us towards rushing people through their grief by saying things like, “It’ll be ok” (it will be, but it’s not ok right now), “You’ll be fine” (they will be, but again, they aren’t fine right now), “They are in a better place” (maybe, but OUR place is a little less better because they aren’t here now and we get to feel that). So when my kids would randomly state that they missed Gunner or felt sad in the days that followed, instead of brushing away their feelings I encouraged them to speak more about how they felt and what they missed about Gunner. My husband and I would randomly share what parts of the day now felt hard or different. We set the stage for allowing anyone to express sadness or discomfort at any time and unapologetically. Yes, it brought up sadness for the rest of those around but it usually subsided quickly after being expressed.
3) People can’t support you if they don’t know you’ve experienced a loss.
Losing Gunner, especially going through the process of putting him down, was much harder than I expected. I also felt hesitant to cry or tell people how I felt as I was afraid of judgment. Afterall, Gunner was a dog we’d only had for about a year and a half, not a person or a lifelong pet. It felt silly and in a weird way un-earned to feel the degree of grief that I felt.
But I began by calling my kids’ school to let them know that they’d be absent. When asked why, I choked back a sob and explained they’d be losing their dog that day. The secretary immediately offered comforting words and the next day my daughter was offered an opportunity to speak to the school counselor who had her draw a picture that is now hanging in her bedroom.
I then let my DBT team (a group of therapists I consult with) know I’d be missing group and why. I then received several individual messages filled with comforting words and support (one of the pros to having a bunch of therapist friends is that they know how to show up for you!).
I was more hesitant to reach out to family but eventually let them know about our loss. Some family members were quick to respond and check in on us a family and others not so much. It was heartwarming to receive visits or calls from loved ones and a little disappointing to notice who all remained silent. However, I was able to understand that not everyone will know how to support or have the capacity to do so. This too, was a big learning lesson in our grief journey.
Ultimately, it was helpful for people to know and allow them an opportunity to show up for us and support us. Staying silent out of fear of judgment would have isolated me and my family in our grief and even prevented my daughter from receiving the support she needed at school.
Again, your process or experience may differ greatly from mine. Your needs may be different and your support system may show up for you in different ways. You may not be able to take a day off work or allow your kids to stay home. You may not have lost a pet yet and therefore have no idea what to expect. All of that is fine. I encourage you to simply check in with yourself. Give space and voice to your emotions and go with the flow of what the emotions are telling you. Finally, know that whatever your emotional experience is, there is no right or wrong emotion. I hope you aren’t bogged down with self-judgment or fear and are able to express your grief with someone.
