Animals Unfolded

There have been instances in my practice where, during a conversation, an individual who I’m providing pet loss & grief companioning support to expresses difficulty with all manner of issues not directly related to the distant, recent or anticipatory loss of their pet. It’s expected from time to time. And to some degree, it can be linked to the work we’re doing together. It’s often a fine line that I need to carefully consider & be honest with myself about, & so a little curiosity & reflective listening goes a long way. In some cases, its not blurry: the sticky wicket of something like the death of a human loved one, or maybe having a complicated relationship with a human loved one or experiencing conflicts in the workplace has clearly taken a place front & center for the pet guardian—which is actually a pretty common thing to happen when one is wading through the viscous territory of the grief surrounding pet loss, or feeling the effects heavy duty caregiving....

It’s not uncommon for me to be brought on board by a family to tend to their pet who has received a life-limiting illness or is experiencing age-related decline (in many cases, both)—and for them to have much-younger pets as well. The former tends to be the focus of my care and tending of course, but as any family in this situation will tell you, the other pets become just as much a part of the equation because they’re as much a part of the family unit.  It’s no secret that the younger pets lend a sense of lightness to the overall situation and in themselves offer some respite from the day-to-day changes, decision making, monitoring of a pet who is in delicate health. In fact, I often remind my families that though the pangs of guilt that they experience from having fun with their younger pets and tending to their emotional and mental needs are completely normal, resisting that and setting time aside for play and all else can actually make them a better caregiver to that pet ...

I give my families whose pets have died—and my serving the family in the capacity of acting as caregiver to their pet is no longer needed—agency on how and when their keys are returned to them. Though I have a contract with my families that details the terms of my having possession of their house keys and their return, I recognized long ago that the act of my handing their keys to them is surprisingly difficult for many of them. This is especially true when a pet has navigated the journey of age-related decline or a life-limiting illness and I’ve walked alongside them and their family to the end. And so, I proceed thoughtfully. Essentially, I’m asking permission to engage in this interaction, though it involves a seemingly benign detail, am giving it what I’ve come to know is the thoughtfulness that it deserves. After all, I’ve forged a bond with the pet and the family through our time together, and understand the gravity of what has been experienced.  Below is ...

One afternoon many years ago, when I was having a conversation with one of my families after their pet died, I heard a response to something I offered in an effort to be 'helpful'. What I didn’t realize is the exchange helped me to see grief very differently, and it eventually pushed me further along on a unique path that led me where I am now. I have no interest in listening to other people talk about their experience losing their pet, about their grief… This resonated with me deeply. At first I thought it was just me because I tend to be exceedingly private about my personal life, and that includes anything regarding the deaths in my midst. Understanding that, in looking back I’m not even sure why I even suggested that a pet loss support group meeting might be helpful to this person. I know now that was widely accepted as just what was available, accessible to those grieving the loss of a pet. I’m better equipped, today. People in pet loss support groups… they’re focu...

"We did everything we were supposed to. We did everything right..." This is a resonant refrain that I hear from my families after their pet dies unexpectedly, often as they glance over to the boxes of heartworm and flea preventative that they fetched just days before but will now go unused in their household. The emotions that begin sputtering out are understandable and expected: confusion, anger, 'it's not fair', a generous helping of 'WTF?', all often mixed with guilt.  Death is a common companion in my work. Often working with senior and geriatric pets and their families, it's usually a time of life for them when I'm ushered in; there is a pet's age-related decline or life limiting diagnosis, or it could be that in-home care is just more fitting for their respective emotional needs.  But in truth, I work with companion animals of all ages, and I can tell you that when a pet who has been deemed to be the picture of health receives...

Conversations are unquestionably expansive in my work with families as a Certified Pet Loss and Grief Companion, and each of those that I have cement the notion that companion animals are an important facet of people's lives. We build lives with our pets, as well as memories. Pets somehow become markers for significant events in our lives and it's no wonder: we spend more time with them on a daily basis than we do other family members, and for years on end. I was super-amazed by a deep-but-lighthearted conversation between comedians Michael Legge and Cariad Lloyd on the latter’s podcast, Griefcast . I stumbled on it by accident, by way of a totally unrelated podcast but I digress. Serendipity. If you are grieving your loss of a pet, recent or long-since, I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to relate on so many levels. Lloyd gets grief and instinctively knows how to get to the spaces-in-between questions that matter and Legge expands beautifully on his life and the end-of-li...

On the cusp of a weekend in early-June,  7AM —unexpectedly lying in a hospital bed, after being admitted for a bout of lymphangitis, worried, bleary eyed- and minded—my iPhone was the only thing keeping me company in the dimly-lit, unfamiliar space. Podcasts, working their audible magic after my waking  at 5AM  in an untethered state. Suddenly, the device lit up, bearing the familiar number on the caller ID that I was all-too-thrilled to see at that hour. Yes, finally, something bearing some semblance to my day-to-day, something that in times like that is always welcome: likely a last-minute request from a client to come by and give their dogs some outside time and fun that afternoon, though unfortunately I knew I wouldn't be able to help.  Wrong.  The voice, familiar, though strangely foreign in tone and cadence. I couldn't palpate what it was at first, but as is often the case, it was somehow starkly evident as the words tumbled out. Things were not th...

We have few things in our collective culture that serve as markers in life. You know, those things that say that we've reached points in our respective journeys that are significant. In the broadest sense, aside from cementing our relationship with another human like with a wedding, the birth or welcoming of a new child or serving our country during war -- and for some in our culture, those situations never occur -- there really is little else that we feel compelled to mark as a rite of passage, aside from some cases, religious ones.  Rituals and traditions are  a natural part of the events that we do honor, and in our culture, I can see that we need more of that. Reclaiming rites of yore and establishing new ones would be especially helpful in navigating the bumpier times, enable us more solidly connect to members of the proverbial clubs that we're (sometimes unintentionally) initiated into and to navigate that new territory. Rituals demand that we engage in the act of n...