When there’s no denying your sweet pet is in decline, it’s a rotten-hard place to be.

In a sense, your heart begins its own private mourning long before the actual goodbye comes.

This uninvited emotional state is called anticipatory grief. It’s a natural, albeit painful, response to an impending loss.

It may also be a confusing time where you sway between moments of sadness, guilt, tenderness, relief, and—unexpectedly—even peace.

When you understand and work through these emotions, the waiting period can be transformed from a time of great pain to one of great meaning. It can even become a final, love-filled chapter full of intentional bonding with your pet.

A Deeper Dive Into the Unwelcome World of Anticipatory Grief

Anticipatory grief is as unsettling as it sounds. It means that before your loss has even occurred, grief is already starting to settle in.

This particular brand of grief emerges when your pet has been diagnosed with a terminal illness or shows rapid signs of aging or decline.

But unlike the grief that happens after death, anticipatory grief is a confusing cocktail of mourning and care, love and dread. You might still be attending to your pet’s physical needs in real life, but you’re mentally preparing for the inevitable (or at least, trying to accept that it’s coming).

This dual focus is emotionally draining. But it’s also deeply human.

The guilt is usually the worst of it. Many pet parents feel guilty about grieving “too soon” while their companions are still alive.

But early grief, before a passing, serves a unique purpose: it allows you to begin processing what’s happening and to make choices that match up with your love and compassion for your pet, as opposed to avoidance.

So when you recognize and accept anticipatory grief for what it is, you’re better able to honor your emotions without shame.

The Rainbow of “Before” Emotions

Even though anticipatory grief moves you gradually toward accepting the inevitable, it still brings a wide spectrum of emotions. Some of your days may feel peaceful… others might be filled with fear, dread, or anger.

This brew of feelings could also include

• sadness or dread as you watch your pet’s health decline,

• anger at the situation or the unfairness of it all,

• anxiety about “the right time” to say goodbye,

• guilt for moments when you wish the suffering were over,

• relief after small signs of comfort or a pain-free day,

• and finally, gratitude for the closeness you have with your pet.

It’s a strange reality that these emotions can coexist, changing hour by hour.

But rather than viewing them as contradictions, try shifting your focus to think of them all as expressions of deep love and awareness of the impending separation.

Because, painful as it is to experience anticipatory grief, sudden grief and the unexpected death of a pet are really no better.

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Climbing Through Emotional Upheaval

But while a different outlook of what you’re going through is helpful, what can you actually do to navigate the day-to-day challenge of knowing the end is coming?

One approach is to look for balance. This means being mindful of your own well-being even while taking care of your pet each day. Granted, that’s sometimes hard, because in your pet’s waning days, the last thing you might want to focus on is yourself.

But staying present and maintaining your own inner happiness is something your pet can feel. Chances are it’ll bring them comfort and stability in those final days—because if anything, you’ll save them from picking up on your own stress.

Here are some ways to stay present and find balance during this stage:

1. Let those feelings bubble up. The thing about grief is that, much like a hungry infant, it needs to be heard. It demands attention. Crying is one outlet. Journaling is another. Talking with an empathetic friend is an option.
   

   All of these channels help you release tension and prevent emotional numbness.

   Addressing your grief is important in the long run, too, since suppressed emotions can make later stages of grief even heavier.
   

2. Lean on mindfulness and presence. Simple mindfulness exercises help, too. Try pausing to take a deep breath while stroking your pet’s fur or focusing on the rhythm of their breath.
   

   Consider setting a timer for even just five minutes a day to sit quietly with them. Tell your pet how much you love them and how much they mean to you.

   
   Each of these approaches can quiet fear and bring a sense of connection to the present moment. Staying grounded helps you appreciate the things happening in the here and now rather than rehearsing the pain you’ll feel in the future.
   

3. Reach for compassionate conversation. Sometimes, just having one other person affirm that your grief is valid can be healing in itself. Trusted friends, veterinarians, grief counselors, and pet loss support groups are all places to normalize what you’re going through.
   

4. Remember self-care. The combination of caregiving and emotional turmoil is a rough experience for your physical body. That stress and worry alone can wear you down, making you feel tired and less likely to eat well.
   

   But if you care for yourself and your physical state, you’re better able to show up for your pet. Rest, hydration, movement, sunshine on your face, nutritious meals, and uplifting music are all ways to nurture your physical self so you stay healthy and more present for your pet.

What Can You Do To Make This Time Special for Your Pet?

Time becomes very precious when you know goodbye is just around the corner. But instead of focusing on the loss, experiment with tiny acts of love that honor your pet’s life.

In these waning days, think about what would be most meaningful to you and your pet. Maybe snapping photos or recording short videos… or making a paw print memorial… or throwing your pet a party with special treats.

Though the thought might seem overwhelming when you’re first given a diagnosis for your pet or have that initial realization that your pet will soon pass, you have the power to make this time meaningful.

Not only will doing so help you wade through the coming grief, it’ll likely bring your pet great amounts of joy as well.

It’s a surprise to many—as it certainly was to me—just how disorienting pet loss grief can feel. With your daily routines thrown off and that steady love and companionship gone…

Sadness becomes the new norm. Getting to the other side of it feels impossible.

But in these worst-of-times stretches, a memorial ritual might help you bridge the gap from aching to functional, while guiding your heart through the loss and into healing.

Today, we dive into what a ritual is and why something so seemingly simple can make a world of difference, along with five rituals to incorporate into your grief journey.

Why Rituals Bring Comfort During Grief

Rituals are a defining feature of humanity. Many of them are complex, symbolic, and deeply ingrained in most cultures. They offer comfort, structure, and a sense of connection. Baby showers, weddings, and wakes are just a few examples of how rituals help us transition into a new season of life.

And so when you’ve just lost a beloved pet, rituals can help you transition to life without your pet, regardless of how unwanted that new phase may be.

The real power of rituals lies in their constancy; they offer a familiar rhythm during the chaos that is grief.

The goal is to move through a simple, repeatable action that gives shape and intention to the pain and sorrow you’re feeling. Doing this helps you honor the fact that your bond with your pet still persists, even if it looks different.

The most powerful part of a ritual is that it’s a way to claim agency while mourning. Each gesture, each time you engage in your ritual, is a way of saying, “I remember you, and I choose to remember the best of times, and to remember it all with love.”

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Personal Rituals to Honor a Pet’s Life

There’s no single answer for what your memorial ritual should look like. It can be long or short, solitary or shared with others, daily or weekly.

Personal ceremonies can be deeply healing if you tailor them to your own spiritual or emotional language. Each time you express yourself through ritual is a way to convey your love for your pet in a tangible manner, long after they’re gone.

And when you feel like the bottom has dropped out of your life, it’s the tangible, clear, concrete actions that help you feel grounded.

If you’d like to create a memorial ritual for your pet that you can do on your own, consider these ideas:

1. Light a candle: Create a quiet moment at a designated time of day to light a candle for your pet. Let the flame symbolize the light your beloved pet brought into your life and the warmth that you feel when you think of them.

2. Write letters or pour your words into a journal: Composing a letter to your pet can release any feelings you have of guilt, longing, or gratitude. Writing out your thoughts also allows you to continue “speaking” to your pet, in a sense, and often brings emotional clarity.

3. Reflect quietly in a favorite spot: Visit a park path, window seat, or spot in the sun that your pet loved. Sitting there in stillness for just a few minutes a day can transform your sadness into peaceful remembrance.

4. Create a small memorial space: Designate a gentle corner to house photos, a collar, or your pet’s favorite toy. This sacred space becomes a visual anchor for your ongoing connection to your pet’s memory.

5. Plant a tribute and tend it daily: Whether it’s indoors or out, choose a plant that needs regular attention. Then every time you water or tend it, think of your care for that plant as a ritualistic adaptation of how you cared for your pet.

Your ritual doesn’t need to be dramatic or lengthy; it only needs to reflect authenticity and the unique relationship you shared with your pet. So anything specific to what you and your pet did for fun, enjoyed during downtime, or anything that simply reminds you of them can be part of or inspiration for the ritual.

Finding Meaning Amidst the Storm

Know that any kind of memorial ritual you create to honor your pet’s life is more than an emotional exercise — it’s an act of sacred continuity.

Each candle, word, or gathering knits memory together with meaning. Doing this helps safeguard your relationship with your pet and can bring steady comfort and healing during the sometimes-lengthy pain of pet loss.

And then over time, these rituals remind you that while your sweet companion is no longer physically beside you, their love has become part of who you are going forward. More importantly, you can still cherish the memory of the time you had together.

Perhaps you’ve been there… driving down the road, humming a peppy tune, feeling pretty good, when all of a sudden…

BAM.

A wave of grief for your lost pet hits from out of the blue. It hits without warning. It hits without a trigger.

And it hits hard.

These are the muddling moments that feel like they’ll derail you. There’s no way to sugarcoat or prepare for them.

And these moments are very different from when you know you’ll be reminded of your grief, like when your pet’s regular feeding time rolls around, or when you’re sitting in a favorite chair where they always kept you company.

But when you least expect it? Those can be some of the hardest moments to navigate.

Yet there is an explanation for this kind of “surprise grief,” along with strategies to not let it completely unsettle you.

Why Grief Hits Out of the Blue

When you’re in the brutal-pain stage of grief, the natural reaction is to desperately want it to stop. That’s when the pain is so raw, you feel it all over, down to the tips of your trembling fingers.

Or you might feel it so keenly in your chest, you assume a knife stabbing would be more bearable.

So it makes sense that it’s unnatural to welcome that grief and pain as a good thing. Or to see it as your body trying to protect you.

But one of the reasons grief is felt so keenly on a physical level is that you don’t just process it as an emotion, but rather as a threat to your attachment and safety. In turn, your brain and body can react as if something essential has been ripped away.

When that bond is gone, it’s as if you’ve lost your own stabilizer. That’s when grief moves in and can masquerade as trauma, panic, or any kind of drop in regulation.

Pet grief hits your nervous system especially hard because our pets often gift us daily co-regulation. That comes from the daily routines you build with them, the frequent companionship, or the steady touch of your pet when they’re sleeping on your lap or by your feet.

For some people, there might even be a sense of safety they get from their pet, just from having them there and not feeling so alone.

These different aspects of your bond with your pet are stored in your body as habits, body memory, and attachment systems. They’re not just stored in conscious thought.

Which means that any kind of random sound, quiet moment, routine task, or even no obvious cue at all can bring the pain of the loss right back to the surface, even though your conscious mind never saw it coming.

Grief (Irritatingly) Isn’t a Single Event

Another major reason people feel bowled over when grief pays a visit is that it hits after you think you’ve made it through. But that’s exactly the root of the problem—that you think you’ve made it through.

Yet conquering grief isn’t the goal. It isn’t really possible, either. Grief is not a hurdle to pass. It’s not a corner to turn.

It’s not an event that you defeat and move on from. (Though comments like “get over it” perpetuate this finish-line idea.)

The thing about grief is that it comes in waves. You get a little break as the waves recede… and then you’re underwater again. As you sit with the grief and time passes, the waves aren’t as big and they’re more spread apart.

But they are there.

And that’s why sometimes, those waves are triggered by things too subtle to notice consciously.

Or, it could be your nervous system carrying the loss in the background, and when your defenses drop even for a moment, the grief breaks through all at once.

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How to Move With the Waves

It’s not the easy answer or the preferred answer in our fix-it-and-move-forward culture, but really, grief is an ongoing part of your life. It’s a companion that fades in and out, depending on your current circumstances.

And when it comes to pet loss, grief can be a more frequent visitor than may be true of other types of losses.

This might happen if you’re grieving multiple pets at the same time, even though those losses spread across years. Or you could be grieving the loss of your daily routine, your identity, your steady emotional support, or even the connection your pet gave you to other people in your life.

Make no mistake: pet loss grief is significant and has a greater impact than many people realize.

But it’s not a sign of weakness or failure, especially when these grief bursts hit unexpectedly and without obvious reason.

If you can learn to recognize them, understand what they’re made of, and acknowledge them, you can shorten the amount of time you’re taken out by the pain.

Meet those waves with compassion rather than fear. “Oh. It’s you again, Sadness. I recognize you. I honor you. And I move forward with you.”

When you can do this, that loss becomes part of you. Part of your history, and what makes you who you are.

And eventually, it becomes a way to stay connected with that pet and that beautiful time you had them in your life.

“My dog understands me like no one else.”

“My dog is my person.”

“My dog is my very best friend.”

It’s super sweet and not uncommon at all if you feel this way.

People who say this about their pets, dog or otherwise, usually feel that the animal was more than a pet.

For a lot of folks, that connection is their safest relationship. Which means the loss of that relationship can feel as devastating as losing a close family member.

So I just want to share what a “normal” response is to this level of grief, especially for those in the world who don’t have a best-friend-pet and can’t really understand.

(I say “normal” because everyone’s response to loss is unique to them… but what I hope you take away from this is that deep grief and extended sadness for this kind of pet loss is the norm, not the exception.)

The Surprising Ways This Loss Extends Beyond Your Pet

Initial sadness from losing your dog or pet goes without saying. The tears. The hollow devastation. Intense waves of emptiness.

Also common in pet loss is guilt and self-blame. Did I do enough? Did I miss something? Should I have chosen differently?

But after the departure of a particularly close pet bond, a few other things shift. You might feel the loss of

• Your routine: Without daily walks and feeding rituals, your regular habits get thrown off. It’s not uncommon to feel unmoored with this consistency gone from your day.

• Your identity: Who are you without your pet? Who are you when there’s no reason to stop at the dog park, or pick up cat treats on the way home? Who are you when you don’t check in at the groomer’s every other month? When you no longer see the neighbors on your daily walk?

• Your ability to connect: With an empty house and shifting purpose, you might feel unmoored from the world you knew. Lonely. Disconnected. This is where you risk feeling wholly cut off from the world.

• Your mental health and anxiety level: You find yourself wondering how to get through the days without the structure and meaning you had when your pet was still alive.

• Your sense of self: It’s not uncommon to feel like you’ve lost a piece of yourself. Like a fundamental part of who you are and how you show up in the world has gone missing.

Please know that here in this community, we see you. We acknowledge that bottomless pit of pain. Many of us have been right where you are. Many of us are still there. 💗

Here’s What You Do, When You Can…

Our world is packed full of stereotypes about what a pet should and shouldn’t be to people, which can make it loads harder to grieve in the way that’s right for you.

So this might feel like a big ask, but I want to invite you to grieve. Grieve hard. Cry loudly. Sob. Curl up in a ball on the floor. Yell. Dissolve into your pain.

Why? Because all these painful acts are incredibly cleansing and cathartic. (I’ve done every one of them when in grief, and I always feel better on the other side.)

You can do it in private. You can cry with a friend or with someone else touched by the loss of your pet. You can cry out and express your grief in our online community. Bottom line:

Do what feels necessary in the moment, and know that there are other supporters of this newsletter who’ve been in similar situations, who cried their eyes out, and moved through the pain. You can survive this.

The Fundamental Power of Expression

As you work through the deep grief of losing a pet who felt like your best friend, try reaching for some form of expression as a way to process your feelings.

Maybe that means journaling or writing a letter to your pet. Maybe it’s about creating a tribute through a framed picture or artwork.

Maybe you plant a tree or a flowering bush in your pet’s honor.

Physically expressing your love for your pet through any of these acts is another way to help move the grief through and out of you. Just as the crying and raging suggested above can move you through incapacitating grief, acts of creative expression continue that work by helping to push the sadness up and out of you.

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And What Then?

None of this is meant to suggest you’ll be over and through your grief quickly and seamlessly. The immeasurable pain of losing your best friend is something that may be part of you forever.

But the goal isn’t to forget what you shared with your beloved pet. The only goal is to transition the pain of loss from excruciating and all-consuming to something you can live and function with.

From there, who knows? Maybe you’ll go on to adopt another pet. Maybe you won’t. The answer will become clear over time.

And maybe that new pet will be a new best friend. Maybe you’ll find a best human friend in the interim. Or, maybe not.

Recognize that it doesn’t serve you to wonder about the future, at least not when pet loss pain is still omnipresent.

If you do the work to sit with, process, and express the grief of losing your best friend… then on the other side, at some point, you’ll know the right next step for you. 💗🐾💗

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If you’ve ever scrolled through TikTok or Instagram or binged reality TV, you’ve probably heard it.

“Feel your feelings.”

“Embrace the suck.”

“Sit in the sadness.”

What does that even mean?

Because it feels like social media drivel. Armchair psychology tripe. Like when kids echo phrases without actually knowing the meaning behind their words.

Yet there is something to those statements. Taken seriously, “sitting in the sadness” can even help you move through your pet loss grief to a place where it hurts less and life starts to open back up.

Here are the first steps.

“Good Grief” Takes Practice

Grief shows up in all kinds of different ways. For me, it’s an ache that starts below my eyes. Then my chest begins to clench. My limbs feel limp.

And my whole body aches with exhaustion.

That’s been my physical experience of grief. But it changes…

Sometimes there’s the slow and steady drip of tears that leave staggered wet spots on the floor. Sometimes it all comes out in agonized moans.

More than once, I’ve curled up in a ball on the rug. More than once, I’ve sobbed under tables, no doubt reaching back to some primitive instinct to find shelter in the face of pain.

When Koda, my soul dog, died, I often curled up in his bed to weep.

Usually, though, once I’ve journaled and cried, relief washes over me and gets me through the day until the next time grief pays a visit.

It wasn’t always like this. It’s taken years of practice — and unfortunately, many different types of grief — to get me to a place where I could give my feelings their day in the sun.

I didn’t get there till I’d had a large assortment of therapy and grief coaching sessions.

But I learned that trying to stamp out my grief as if it were fire on clothing wasn’t serving me. I’d previously been master of the stiff upper lip. After all, I wasn’t weak. I didn’t snivel. I couldn’t devolve into a puddle and still keep my life running…

Right?

The Risk of Avoiding Grief Work

Wrong. There’s a problem with unaddressed grief, and it generally always manifests as something worse. More than a catchphrase, there is a psychological reason to address your feelings and “feel the feels.”

It’s because if you don’t do this deep (and hard) work, you risk being pulled into a darker place. It might be something as inoffensive as a stomachache or as terrifying as suicidal thoughts.

It looks different for everyone, but those darker places include depression, anxiety, volatility, or turning to numbing devices like drugs and alcohol and other compulsions.

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How to Meet Your Pet Loss Grief Head On

For me, the easiest way to feel my grief over the loss of pets and through other tragedies, is to journal. (I mean actual pen-to-paper journaling, which taps the brain in a different way than typing onto a screen.)

I recommend a body scan as you feel the sadness come on. Then, try writing about what you feel. “I sense a knot in my stomach… I need to lie down… it’s as if tears are stuck behind my eyes… I want to scream.” Write down what you feel and where you feel it in your body.

You don’t even have to use a journal. It could be you just speak the feelings out loud. Or share them with a caring friend.

Key here is that when you observe those feelings, you don’t judge them. Silence the critic that wants to say, “This is stupid. I’m stronger than this. These feelings don’t make sense.”

From there, dig a little deeper. See if you can name the emotions. Maybe the knot in your stomach feels like abandonment. The stuck tears feel like a loss of control. The scream that’s desperate to come out is raw, unfiltered anger.

When you do this, you’re allowing your grief the space to exist. You’re allowing yourself to be vulnerable (which is probably one of the most powerful skills in our human arsenal that most of us don’t know how to tap).

Most importantly, you’re permitting yourself to be human. And it’s these deep, intense human emotions that allowed for the beautiful connection you had with your pet in the first place. Acknowledging the other side of that deep love—the sadness and pain—is a way to honor that initial love.

After all, when it comes to dog loss or cat loss or any kind of pet loss, it wouldn’t hurt so much if you hadn’t loved so intensely.

I was never a reptile person until my kids began to adopt their own pets.

One became the happy owner of a leopard gecko—“Nova,” gifted by a friend and already seven years old.

And another brought a corn snake into our home, a skinny orange baby who was christened “Creamsicle.”

Just being around these little creatures helped me, over time, go from squeamish and standoffish to happy to pet and hold them. (Seeing my kids find so much joy in them helped, too.)

It’s opened up a whole new aspect of the pet grief world that’s even less understood than general pet grief: Reptile loss and the human-reptile bond.

What I’ve learned has changed the entire way I look at this class of creatures, and I’m eager to share it with you.

A Bond That Others Don’t See

Caring for a new reptile isn’t loud and obvious, not like taking a rambunctious puppy to obedience school or playing with a kitten that bats at all things interesting.

The human-reptile bond is built mostly through quiet, daily acts of care that go unwitnessed: calibrating basking temperatures, monitoring UVB exposure, and preparing species-specific diets.

It’s also about learning to read those oh-so-subtle behavioral cues, from the tilted head of a bearded dragon to the way a ball python curls up differently when relaxed.

There’s also joy in watching quick-fire motions—like our gecko hunting with laser focus.

These small but notable acts become the “language” of the relationship between a human and a reptile. That lays the foundation for recognizing genuine personalities in these animals, with preferences and habits of their own, rather than seeing them as cold or emotionless organisms.

The Research is Surprising

Any committed reptile owner would likely argue you don’t need research to confirm reptile attachment, but this study fascinated me:

Using the Lexington Attachment to Pets Scale (LAPS), roughly 2,000 reptile guardians were surveyed. Results showed that the mean attachment score for reptiles fell within the normal range for all companion animals. And it was actually higher than the average score for dogs kept outdoors.

Respondents were most attached to lizards, then snakes, then tortoises. The researchers concluded that most guardians do not view their reptiles as “disposable.” (I take this to mean that a reptile owner wouldn’t be cool with switching their creature out for a new one if the old one died… which isn’t something I assumed, it’s just something I never thought about.)

But there’s more…

A mixed-methods study of 220 Portuguese reptile owners found that 64% considered their reptile a family member, 54% cited “like” or “love” as their primary motivation for keeping the animal, and 22 participants volunteered “companionship” as a key benefit.

The researchers concluded that human-reptile bonds are “driven by the same feelings as those previously reported for mammalian pets, although they are more diverse and nuanced by a sense of admiration and fascination.”

The Phobias Behind Reptile Grief Disenfranchisement

Reptile keepers deal with the same “just a” problem all pet owners face: “It’s just a lizard.” “It’s only a snake.” “You can get another one.”

But those disenfranchising comments go even further with painful “pet comparison” statements: “At least it wasn’t your dog.”

As I’ve written about before, these kinds of comments distance a pet owner from their own painful feelings, making them feel stupid or wrong for having so much grief. They end up minimizing their own pain with statements like, “I know it’s silly to be this sad, but...”

In fact, as I dug through blogs and posts about reptile pet loss, one of the most striking recurring themes was: “I’m scared you’re going to laugh at me, but I’m in so much pain after losing my snake and no-one seems to understand.”

A major reason for reptile grief disenfranchisement also lies in the fact that a lot of reptiles are the subject of phobias. People who are afraid of snakes (or anything with scales) have a hard time seeing them as objects of love.

Reptiles also lack the behavioral cues most people associate with a loving pet. They’re in cages, so they don’t seek you out. They don’t protest when you leave. There’s little sign of visible affection.

This all gels together to make it harder for outsiders to understand grief from reptile loss.

Which is why it’s important, I believe, not to bother comparing. The interactions between owners and their reptiles are significantly different from the way owners interact with mammals.

The grief patterns are different, too.

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What Reptile-Specific Grief Looks Like

Following a loss, reptile owners describe particular pain at the sight of an empty terrarium, a vacant basking rock, or branches that no longer support a coiled tail.

And because the animal’s movements were both subtle and rhythmic (not loud and demonstrative like many mammalian pets), the absence is felt more keenly when daily micro-routines come to an end—like checking a thermometer, misting an enclosure, or preparing live food.

The guilt spiral is similar, though, to what I’ve written about in other types of pet loss. Keepers often report battling self-blame, wondering whether they missed a cue and should have taken their reptiles to the vet sooner, whether the temperature was off, or something else within their control that they (feel they) failed at.

And So the Coping Advice Is…

In the end, reptile grief is raw and painful, no different than all the other types of grief we’ve explored.

So if you ever come across someone who’s lost a reptile, or if you’ve lost a reptile, acknowledging that the pain is real and crushing is the first step.

Talking about the reptile is helpful during the grief transition… and making photo tributes is a loving way to remember the pet.

Two additional sweet coping strategies specific to reptiles include transforming the enclosure into a tribute either by placing a plant or photo inside, or keeping one of the objects from the cage as a keepsake.

And of course, finding community provides critical validation, especially if you’re a reptile owner without an in-person network of fellow reptile lovers. Communities can mourn with you when the pain is fresh and raw, and they’ll be there for you again should you ever be ready to open your heart to another sweet creature.

Have you ever lost a reptile? What did your grief look like?

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There’s no question that pet loss is devastating. Whether you know it’s coming and you have time to prepare, or it happens suddenly and tragically, it hurts.

Heavy as it is, that pain is the essence of being human. And words alone can’t always soothe it away.

So if you’re looking for hope or you’re desperate for comfort, nature might be the remedy you need. In many ways, nature transforms grief.

Today, I want to talk about creating natural or “living” memorials that honor your pet’s life. At the same time, this approach to grieving can become a form of nurturing that continues to grow and give back to the earth.

Carrying Their Memory Forward

When you create a memorial for your pet through nature, it isn’t just about remembering them. It’s also about honoring the relationship you had with them.

Nature-based memorials—or really, any kind of memorial—create a space where your grief and gratitude can coexist. It becomes a place to feed treasured memories and keep them alive, as well as a haven where healing can begin.

Here are some beautiful ways to create a living tribute connected to nature:

• Take a commemorative walk along one of your pet’s favorite trails and collect a special stone or leaf as a keepsake.

• Volunteer for a local park or beach cleanup in your pet’s name, symbolically giving back to the places they loved.

• Sprinkle dried flowers you bought in memory of your pet throughout a field, lake, or trail that your pet loved.

• Dedicate a tree through organizations that reforest wildlife habitats. The tree that gets planted helps heal the planet while at the same time commemorating your companion’s life.

• Transform everyday items, like your pet’s water bowl, into planters filled with herbs or flowers. A collar wrapped gently around the rim or a tag nestled in the soil adds a touch of tenderness to the display.

Though these acts might seem simple on the surface, when done with intention, they become sacred rituals. From the sight of something growing in honor of your pet to the feel of the sun or breeze on your face, these small, sensory experiences offer comfort that words just can’t.

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When Nature Becomes a Metaphor for Love

Why is it so effective? When you create a memorial in nature, the combined effect of using earth, water, or sunlight serves as an emblem of the ongoing love you have for your pet.

Imagine the difference between feeling hopeless as you stare out your window in grief, versus looking through the glass at a young tree that was planted in your pet’s honor. It’s a reminder that the bond you shared with your pet isn’t gone, it just looks different.

The metaphor of it all is beautiful. In the same way roots stretch out unseen beneath the soil, the love you shared with your pet continues to sustain your life in quiet, unseen ways.

And when it comes to these acts, size and scale are irrelevant. Even small nature-based memorials, like a potted plant or a painted stone, can carry deep meaning and serve as a seed of healing.

The Gift of New Life

Whether you plant a tree that is likely to outlive you or you scatter petals across a meadow that will absorb into the earth to feed new life, it becomes something of an offering to your pet: A promise they won’t be forgotten, and that their legacy will always be part of the living, breathing world.

Then, as you tend your memorial, whether that means watering it, weeding around it, sitting quietly by it, or walking through it, you can breathe in the ongoing life and beauty of it all. Take it as a symbol of what your pet got from you: deep, energy-rich love.

And remember—even though it’s taken a different form, that love never truly disappears. Nature reminds us that endings aren’t absolute; they’re transitions. Through your living tribute, your pet’s spirit lives on, both in your heart and through the seasons.

What nature-based memorials have you created for your departed pets?

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After a beloved pet is gone from your life, it’s not uncommon to sink back into grief when the anniversary of their death swings back around.

For me, it was always around the Fourth of July. My soul dog, Koda, passed suddenly and traumatically during the week our neighborhood was rowdy with pre-celebratory fireworks.

In the years that followed, the smell of fireworks and the accompanying booms brought that painful day back to the forefront.

But rather than sink into despondent gloom all over again (which I did, many times), here are some ways to turn that deluge of hard memories into a day filled with meaning and compassion.

Here are 10 ways to navigate the anniversary of your pet’s passing:

1. Say it with peonies. It’s common in human deaths to send flowers to the person grieving or to place flowers on a grave. But flowers aren’t just for the departed. Studies have shown that simply being around flowers can improve your mood, lower your stress levels, and even boost feelings of well-being.

   Jeannette Haviland-Jones, Ph.D., Professor of Psychology at Rutgers, directed a study that showed how flowers can help people manage their day-to-day moods. So in honor of your pet’s passing, maybe buy yourself a beautiful bouquet.
   

2. Do that silly thing. Think back on activities your pet loved to do. Maybe you go on a walk, or curl up in the sun and take a nap. My sweet Koda loved to play with a frisbee — but not for catch. He invented his own clever game of turning the frisbee upside down and using it to roll a ball around in, tilting his head this way and that. It was hysterical.

   Another dog of mine, Owie, loves to chase bubbles (though I wouldn’t eat them, like he does). Sandy, my childhood dog, loved to sing along with piano music.

   I’d bet that the sillier the activity, the more joy it’ll bring you in remembering or even doing the thing.
   

3. Remember with aromas. Think about something your pet was crazy over… like the smell of tuna. Bake the most wonderful tuna casserole each year on that fated day and honor your pet with a new annual tradition.
   

4. Make it a party. Host a little gathering and reminisce about your pet. Choose people who knew and loved your pet, or helped take care of them. Pull out some pictures, make a nice pitcher of lemonade, and revel in the memories.
   

5. Write a letter to your pet. Tell them all that’s happened since their passing. Share your grief and write about how much you still miss them, and that they’re not forgotten.
   

6. Tap into the Beyond. Book a session with an animal communicator. This could be a lovely way to connect with your pet and get reassurance that they are okay.
   

7. Tap your mind. Pre-empt the tears that may fall on your pet’s death anniversary and book a therapy session. Use this hour to take care of your own emotional health.
   

8. Recall that “the body remembers.” Just as I felt impending sadness for years every time fireworks season began, regardless of how happy the rest of my life was, you might have body sensations that hit around the anniversary of your pet’s death.

   Treat yourself well when these glimpses hit your psyche. Take a bubble bath or, or go on a long walk where the sunshine hits your face. Watch a good movie or read a good book. Anything that helps you feel better, even if it’s just a little bit.
   

9. Carve that memory into stone. Find a place to record your pet’s name as a memorial. Animal rescue societies often sell memorials, whether it’s a brick in the courtyard or a framed picture on the wall. Or, give a rescue organization some money in your pet’s name.
   

10. Since you know better, do better. Use the day to intentionally connect with your existing pets. This is especially powerful if you have a lot of regret about how your pet passed, or if you wish you’d done things differently.

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The End Goal is Connection

If a celebration of your pet on the anniversary of their passing feels right to you, do it. If simply crying and remembering feels right, then do that.

There’s no wrong decision here.

The primary goal is to process your grief, whether it means you’re sobbing again or smiling at happy memories. Either way, it’s going to help you.

It may also be valuable to celebrate the day of death if you don’t know the day of your pet’s birth. Just knowing and remembering a specific anniversary can bring clarity to healing as you move forward after the loss of your sweet pet.

But even though remembering might be absolutely hard and painful, forgetting would be worse.💗

What about you? How have you marked the anniversary of your pet’s passing?

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If you have or had a pet you adore… and if you’re an animal lover in general…

Then I would bet the following phrase rankles your soul: “It’s just a [insert animal].

Just a dog. “You can get another one.”

Just a cat. “They’ve got loads more down at the shelter.”

Just a ferret. “Seriously, it’s a rodent. Why would you care?”

Just a horse. Just a bunny. Just a bird.

It’s maddening, right? As if the profound bond you felt for a creature can be minimized into something you’d feel for a coffee mug.

At the heart of it, it’s like saying your love and your pain don’t matter.

But also… I suspect that the people who say those things don’t understand what they’re really saying.

So today I want to talk about how you can flip those just-a comments on their head, and why you should make the effort.

Minimizing Comments Hit Harder Than Most Realize

A growing body of research shows that the bond we humans can have with animals is just as emotionally significant as human relationships.

This is magnified for anyone who is single, isolated, or lives alone. For anyone living with previous unresolved losses (human or animal), the effect is significant as well.

It’s not rocket science. The more connected you are to your pet, the more intense your grief will be when that pet is gone. Just like with humans. Connection predicts pain.

We get this. It’s common sense. You’re going to grieve your best friend a lot harder than your neighbor down the street.

But when we’re talking about animals, some people really don’t understand this. They may see animals as one and the same. As if the cat you’ve adored and cared for the last 18 years can be switched out for the stray that’s been roaming the streets.

We don’t need to hate these misguided people. It’s not even helpful to feel sorry for them.

What does help is to consider that they just don’t know. For whatever reason, they’ve never had an animal connection in their lives. Maybe their parents weren’t pet people. Maybe they never saw this kind of connection modeled.

So it helps to acknowledge they simply don’t have what you have, or had.

• They may never have had a dog who was their confidante or daily companion.

• They may have never known the routine of riding their horse in the lazy afternoons as the shadows grow long.

• Maybe they never had someone in their lives, human or animal, who was a source of complete emotional safety, who helped shape their identity and gave them a purpose.

• Maybe they’ve never had years of shared history and caregiving with a single loving being. Or a source of unwavering support throughout all the ups and downs of life.

And so with that perspective, instead of getting angry or indignant, I find it easier to just hold space for the unfortunate people who invalidate pet grief.

They just don’t know what it means to love and be loved that completely. I hope someday they will.

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How to Handle Invalidating Remarks About Pet Grief

But while we can recognize and let go of those misguided comments, it’s still a problem.

However misplaced or even (oddly) well-intended their words are, that kind of social invalidation and lack of support around pet loss just, well, hurts.

Also, it can push you into a place of feeling more intense grief. It might even make the grief last longer.

Why? Because it keeps you from wanting to open up and talk about it. Stuffing down grief and feeling alone in your sadness makes it all loads worse, to the point where you’re at risk for health complications, from insomnia to depression.

So if you’re ever in a situation where someone else has invalidated your grief, here are a few ways to respond:

First, name what’s happening. This is my grief. My feelings are valid.

Then take a moment to breathe deeply. Ground yourself by looking intentionally at something in the room. Listen to any sounds present. Touch something nearby, and note what you feel—maybe it’s the plush fabric of a chair or the cool surface of a table.

Decide whether the hurtful comment is worthy of a response. If it’s a friend you see regularly, then probably so. If it’s a store clerk you’ll never see again, maybe you save that energy.

You get to decide.

If it feels right to respond, try the following:

“I’m really grieving them. They were family to me.”

“I know it might not seem like a big deal to you, but this is a huge loss for me.”

“I get that you don’t feel the same way, but please respect that this is very painful to me.”

Or, you could choose not to engage. Instead, you might just say to yourself, “I loved my pet deeply, so of course it hurts. So-and-so just doesn’t know. They never had this beautiful bond.”

Next week, I’ll be talking about all the places you can get validation. More places than you might think—it’s very heartening!

For now, I’m curious—what kinds of invalidating things have people said to you when you were grieving a pet?

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The maddening truth about grief related to pet loss is that it doesn’t just go away. Granted, the passing of time helps heal the more acute agony…

But the pain and sadness become your constant companion unless you take certain steps to move forward. Below are ten ways to try doing that.

Self-Care and Emotional Support

The first and most important thing you can do to deal with your pain, whether it’s acute or ongoing (or both), is to take care of yourself. And I get it… That’s probably the last place where you want to put your focus, especially if blame and regret are part of your journey.

But ironically, not putting any energy or attention into your grief only exacerbates the pain of it all. Try these approaches instead:

1. Let yourself grieve. Pet loss brings grief; it’s as simple as that. It’s not something to turn away from or write off because “it was just a cat” or “just a dog” or because your partner or family wasn’t super connected to the animal. Cry, scream, hit pillows, sit in silence… whatever grieving looks like for you, make space for it.

2. Talk about your pet. Spend time with fellow pet-lovers and share favorite stories and anecdotes about your sweet pet. Explain why the pet was so special, and what made them unique. Talking about your pet helps you move from grieving and on to the healing process. Reach out to family and friends, or online communities like this Substack where your stories are welcomed.

3. Try therapy or grief counseling. Nowadays, many therapists have special training in pet loss grief. Therapy and counseling are proven ways to get support in a judgment-free space. You might also look into getting a grief coach.

Memorial Ideas

Setting aside time for memorial activities that celebrate your pet is another tried-and-true way to deal with the acute pain of loss. Yes, it could very well bring up memories that make you cry and feel your grief all over again… but trust the process. Remembering and capturing the good makes you feel better in the long run. Some ways to do that are:

1. Create a box of memories. Start by collecting all the things around your house that remind you of your pet: favorite toys and stuffies, their collar and leash, photos, and other mementos. Put them in a shoebox and decorate it, or find a beautiful container. Place it somewhere you can access when your feelings become overwhelming and you need to reconnect with your pet.

2. Write a love letter by hand. There’s something about putting pen to paper that helps us process things better than if we type them on a screen. Get a pen and paper and write your feelings to your pet, thanking them for all they gave you and reminiscing about favorite memories. Or, use the letter to say things you never got to say.

3. Make a photo album or photo box. Take the time to find and print your favorite photos of your pet, and keep them in a place you can access when you’re feeling low and want to remember happier times.

4. Plant a tree or a flower garden. Creating a living tribute to your pet is a beautiful way to honor their memory. It also gives you a way to focus your attention on something that needs care, which can feel healing.

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Acts of Kindness

Doing things for others takes your attention off your grief for a stretch and gives you a positive way to focus your energy. Consider the following acts of kindness:

1. Ask friends, family, and neighbors how you can help with their pets. The kindness of walking a dog for someone who can’t do it often or picking up pet food and treats for an elderly neighbor both helps them out and makes you feel good.

2. Volunteer with animals. Shelters and rescue organizations are always looking for help, and spending time with animals who need love and attention can be both healing and connecting.

3. Make a donation or do fundraising in your pet’s name. Look for causes that help other animals and find ways to donate to them. You’ll both honor your pet’s memory and create a positive legacy.

Little, Forward Steps

Even after taking these steps, you may always feel sadness and a sense of loss when you think about your pet. And that’s okay; it’s part of being a human.

But hopefully, taking these steps helps ease the sharper blades of pain that come from grief, regret, and blame. The goal is not to forget, but to move to a place of acceptance where you can remember with joy and reconnect with that love you felt for your pet.

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Holidays have a way of ripping our rawest feelings wide open. That’s especially true on Valentine’s Day with all the love-love talk and countless posts about being showered with affection.

None of that lands well if you’re feeling empty space despite the pink and red hearts splashed on every storefront.

And if that empty space is because your pet used to be your Valentine, it’s that much harder. After all, pets are the very best kinds of Valentines with their unfiltered love and zero-expectation devotion.

It doesn’t matter if you said goodbye just days ago or the ache is still heavy years after you parted. Grief is surprising like that, surfacing in sharp little flashes and dull, heavy aches long after the pain of death.

But grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t care about holidays. It just ebbs and flows, and sentimental dates can stir those waves back up.

So for today, how would it be to reframe your thinking? Valentine’s Day feels like torture when your heart is broken. But at its core, it’s a day about love and appreciation.

And when you think about it, grief stems from love. Where there is deep grief, there is deep love. Queen Elizabeth II said it best: “Grief is the price we pay for love.”

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Gentle Ways to Honor Your Pet on Valentine’s Day

One way to navigate deep grief is to throw yourself into the act of remembrance through a tribute.

Consider doing the following to honor your pet:

1. Pen a Valentine. Whether you handwrite it on paper or type it on your phone, creating a simple love note that tells them how much you miss them and how much they meant to you is a beautiful way to remember your pet.

2. Fire and gratitude. Light a candle and say your pet’s name, then share something you’re grateful for related to your time with them. Giving voice and light to their beautiful memory helps bring back that connection you shared.

3. Phone a friend. If you can reach out to someone who knew your pet, or someone who’s also walked or is walking the pain of losing their own pet, then do it. Having your grief seen and heard by someone who gets it will be comforting as you work through the day.

If you end up crying in the car and laughing at a meme five minutes later, that’s okay. If you make plans so you have a distraction or you decide to stay in and sob, that’s okay, too.

There’s no normal way to grieve, but grieving in lots of different ways is normal.

So, however you spend Valentine’s Day, know there are plenty of grieving pet lovers working their way through this day as well. Whether your Valentine had fur, feathers, or scales, know that we all carry a mix of love and sadness on this day. 💗

P.S. If you feel up to it, I’d be honored if you share your pet’s name and something you loved about them.

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There’s a tender kind of heartbreak that’s invisible from the outside, yet millions are walking through it: the loss of a beloved animal companion.

This kind of anguish shatters the heart in quiet, unseen ways. Because to the person mourning, that pet was family.

But if you can help someone walk through that pain, it’s one of the most compassionate gifts you can give.

So today, I’d like to share seven heartfelt, practical ways to offer genuine comfort and support.

1. Acknowledge the Depth of Their Loss

Validating someone’s experience is the most important first step you can take. Because when a pet dies, it’s not just the death of the animal that’s mourned. It’s also the loss of a daily companion who, in many cases, helped shape someone’s identity and daily routine.

Saying something as simple as “I know how much they meant to you” not only honors the relationship between the owner and the pet but also helps a person feel seen in their grief.

On the flip side, avoid comments that minimize the experience or the pet connection, such as “You can get another one” or “Give it a few days; you’ll get over it.”

A good rule to consider before saying anything is to consider whether you’d say the same thing if someone’s human family member passed. If the answer is no, then don’t say it about a pet. The pet-owner bond deserves both recognition and respect.

2. Presence Counts More Than Advice

Comfort doesn’t require perfect words; it calls for presence. Simply sitting with a friend going through loss and letting them talk about their pet again and again is what helps them wade through the early stages of grief.

You might even repeat back what you hear from them as they process:

“It sounds like you miss their companionship so much.”

“He really was a source of joy.”

“I’m glad she kept you warm at night with her bedtime snuggles.”

But words aren’t always needed. Silence can also be healing.

So just being there, handing over tissues when needed, or quietly sitting beside them offers a sense of grounding and reassurance that their sadness is safe with you.

3. Use Their Pet’s Name and Share Memories

Mentioning the pet’s name is also healing, rather than referring to the animal as “your dog” or “your cat.” It’s more intimate and keeps their memory alive.

For example, “Daisy brought so much joy to everyone around her.”

Referring to the pet by name also helps the grieving person feel more connected to the pet.

When you can, share your own memories, too. “I’ll never forget how Daisy always greeted everyone at the door.”

These snippets remind the grieving person that their pet’s life touched others.

Finally, encourage them to tell stories. It transforms pain into sweet memories, giving sorrow somewhere loving to land.

4. Keep Showing Up After the First Few Weeks

Grief lasts longer than people expect, and pet loss grief especially. Check in months later—on birthdays, adoption days, or anniversaries of passing.

A simple note saying, “Thinking of you and Bailey today,” lets them know their pain—and love—aren’t forgotten.

Small gestures also matter: a heartfelt note, a framed photo, or a memorial candle. These acts express care long after initial condolences fade.

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5. Respect Their Way of Grieving

Everyone heals differently. Some cry, others grow quiet, and some fill the silence with stories.

There’s no right way to grieve. There’s no precise timeline.

You might say: “You don’t have to be okay right now. I’m here for you regardless.”

This kind of acceptance gives them permission to grieve naturally, without guilt, deadlines, or expectations.

6. Suggest Gentle Rituals of Remembrance

Creating memorials and rituals helps transform grief into connection through the tangible, concentrated act of giving that grief attention.

For example, you might encourage the person facing loss to plant a tree, create an album, light a candle, or write a letter to their pet.

Maybe ask gently, “Would you like me to help you make a small tribute for Luna?”

Gestures like these reinforce that a person’s love for their pet doesn’t end… it just changes form.

7. When to Encourage Professional Support

If someone’s grief feels overwhelming—maybe it’s affecting their sleep or ability to work—then there may come a time to consider additional help through a therapist or grief coach.

Reassure them that seeking help is a smart form of self-care and not a sign of weakness. Pet loss counselors, grief support groups, or online communities can offer the steady understanding that friends sometimes can’t.

Grief Is Simply Proof of Love

Comforting someone who’s lost a beloved pet isn’t about fixing pain. It’s about honoring love.

Grief is hard. It’s wretched.

It’s also proof that the bond between pet and owner was real.

So any time you’re able to show up for someone wading through that loss, remember to simply stay present and open. By doing just that, you’ll help them carry the heavy weight of that grief, which is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone.

💛 If you found this post helpful, I’d be grateful if you share it with others who might someday be in a position to support a friend through pet loss.

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And for more guidance on healing after the death of a beloved animal, join the Healing From Pet Loss community here.

When a cherished pet dies, everything shifts.

The familiar rhythms that ordered your days seem to dissolve overnight, leaving behind a quiet that feels foreign and heavy. Where there was constant connection, purpose, and affection, there’s now a gaping hole.

But for many grieving pet parents, the pain isn’t just about deep sorrow—it’s also connected to how disoriented they feel.

For example, in the depths of pet loss, you might catch yourself wondering, Who am I now, without my pet?

This is what psychologists call identity loss, a deeply human experience that often accompanies grief. For years, being a pet parent wasn’t just something you did—it shaped who you were.

How Your Pet Helped Form Your Identity

Our self-concept is woven from many threads: our habits, relationships, values, roles, and communities. When your pet was alive, they were interwoven through every one of those parts.

And you weren’t just their caretaker. You were their whole world—their nurturer, companion, playmate, protector, and confidant. That relationship gave your life texture, meaning, and a steady rhythm.

So when your pet passes, you don’t just grieve their absence; you’re also mourning the version of yourself that existed with them.

Those reflections of identity—“the woman with the golden retriever at the park each day,” or “the cat dad whose tabby photo-bombed his posts”— those links fade, and suddenly the way you identify with others is upended.

The Deeper Layers of Grief

Pet loss is rarely just about the loss itself. It can topple the emotional foundation of your entire world.

That’s because our pets stabilize us. They center our nervous systems with their steady presence and love. When they’re gone, emotions beneath the surface—loneliness, past grief, uncertainty—can surge right up to the top, completely uninvited.

You might question things you thought you understood:

Why this loss?

Why now?

What purpose do I have anymore?

Your spiritual or philosophical outlook might even wobble under the weight of grief.

In this way, grief acts as both teacher and mirror—showing you what you’ve lost along with the tender truth of who you’re becoming.

When the World Doesn’t Understand

One of the hardest parts of pet grief in general, which we talk about often in this newsletter, is that society doesn’t readily recognize how profound this kind of identity loss can be. The death of a pet is a form of disenfranchised grief—pain that’s real but too often minimized or ignored.

People may gently suggest you “move on,” unaware that the rupture runs deeper than they realize. You’re not only mourning your companion—you’re rebuilding where you stand in the world.

If you feel unseen or isolated, know this: your pain makes sense. The love you shared with your pet helped define you, so the absence of that love reshapes you.

Gently Reclaiming Your Sense of Self

Healing doesn’t mean returning to how things were before. It means learning who you are now, holding both the love that shaped you were and the space that loss created.

While the caregiving role may have ended, your bond endures—but it’s ever-changing. It evolves from day-to-day love and connection to lasting memories and peace.

Here are a few ways to begin reconnecting with your evolving self:

• Sit with the void, softly. When waves of emptiness rise, notice what you miss most—the routines, the moments, the shared purpose of your days. Naming those specifics helps anchor your grief.

• Keep symbolic connections alive. Light a candle at their feeding time, write to them in a journal, or wear something that reminds you of them. Small rituals turn absence into a continued connection.

• Find a community that gets it. If pet-centered circles feel too painful at first, that’s okay. When you’re ready, rejoin or seek out support groups of fellow grievers who understand that your love was—and still is—an active part of who you are.

• Create to remember. Writing, painting, or building something in your pet’s honor can help you integrate loss into your narrative of self rather than letting it stand apart from it.

• Allow time and grace. It took years to build who you were with your pet. Becoming this next version of yourself will be gradual.

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Accepting Your New Sense of Being

In the early stages of grief, it may feel like the best parts of you vanished with your pet. But underneath the sorrow, a quiet transformation takes place.

The compassion, loyalty, and love you embodied in your bond are still within you… They’re simply waiting for new ways to express themselves.

As time passes, you’ll experience moments of reconnection with who you were when your pet was alive: a peaceful breath, feeling the sun on your face, a fleeting smile when you remember something your pet did.

Those moments mark the slow reweaving of your identity.

You are still the person who loved deeply. That love didn’t end. It’s ever-evolving, carried forward in new patterns of care, empathy, and meaning.

Ultimately, grief is not destruction. It doesn’t erase who you were. Rather, it’s the tender process of becoming a new version of yourself.

When you lost a beloved pet, what routine or ritual went missing for you?

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The sober reality I’m keeping at bay is that my sweet dog, Owie, may not… probably doesn’t… have a lot of years left. Maybe not even one.

Knowing it’s coming and not knowing when makes it all harder, of course. (Though would you rather know when? I think actually not.)

Owie is 14 now. For a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, that’s impressive. He still lives his happy dog life, chasing bubbles when my little daughter blows them in the house and begging for scraps when I clean up dinner.

I never taught him not to. I like that dance.

But Owie’s front legs are turning inward. His hobble is obvious. He skips breakfast sometimes.

And instead of running to greet me when I come home, he keeps right on snoring for hours.

Also… sometimes his legs go out from under him when he’s standing. The vet has noted a heart murmur. Over the past year, he’s had a handful of heartbreaking seizures.

Yet he still erupts into joy when he sees me. He follows my children around, welcomes new visitors, and loves getting his neck scratched.

He’s not the only one in our household climbing toward the top. Posa, our other Cavalier, is 12. She’s completely deaf and has lately decided jumping up on anything over six inches is not for her. She’ll do it, but if one of us is nearby, she gives us the side eye until we pick her up.

Posa is still blessedly free from any ailments. I hold tight to that. Any ailments we’ve noticed, anyway.

The Terrifying Bliss of Denial

Often, when our pets show signs of slowing down and our hearts skip a beat in fear that the end might be coming, it’s not just about the impending loss.

It’s also the looming loss of the life you lived with them. The journey you walked. The seasons you weathered.

Owie came to us as a rescue dog. Found on the side of a prairie road in Texas, he was six months old and too skinny.

We hadn’t been looking for a new dog. But in the tormented months that followed Koda’s passing—my soul dog, and the inspiration behind this whole newsletter—I wasn’t the only one going downhill.

There was also Sydney Roo to consider.

Sydney was our very first Cavalier. She was just seven years old when Koda, at six-and-a-half, left us suddenly and traumatically.

Sydney and Koda were bonded. Best friends.

They’d crossed state lines together. Played together. Tore up their litter box together. (That was when we lived in North Dakota; we litter-box trained them because of the ridiculous cold.)

Sydney and Koda snuggled and nuzzled and tried to steal each other’s treats and did all the things devoted animal siblings do.

So when Koda so quickly departed, it had a devastating effect on Sydney Roo.

Sadly, I was so lost in my own wicked grief that I didn’t even notice at first.

It wasn’t till she became noticeably thinner that I realized how much she was suffering, too.

Maybe there were other things I could have done. At the time, getting her another companion seemed like the best move.

But at the time, my first two kids were one and two years old. The idea of another puppy was daunting.

So we looked to Cavalier animal rescues. We were told rescue dogs weren’t often given to a household with small children, since it was usually impossible to know the dog’s history.

That’s when Owie appeared like a miracle. At six months old, he wasn’t quite a puppy anymore. But he also wasn’t so old that he was at risk for unknown violent streaks against small children.

My husband hopped on a plane and drove back with this totally terrified, sweet dog who wet himself every time you tried to pet him.

A few weeks in, Owie soaked into our family fabric like the sun.

He adored Sydney, who feigned her protest but grew noticeably happier.

As for me, he dove right into the role of comfort dog. In those early years, he’d sleep directly on my legs. Not nestled against me or snuggled in the crook of my knees, but on top of my bony shins. The minor discomfort it caused for both of us was overshadowed by the peace of knowing he was there for me and I was there for him.

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Signs of the Past and Future

As Owie fattened up and his black-and-white fur lengthened, I noticed something bizarrely wonderful: on his left side, his fur grew out in the shape of a glossy black heart.

When Koda died suddenly, it was because of his heart.

So to me, still navigating the seesaw of grief and healing, Owie’s furry black heart-print seemed like a message of love from my little soul dog, as if he’d sent us Owie in his stead.

Will that sound crazy to some? Sure. That’s fine.

But every time that heart has caught my eye over the past 14 years, I’ve felt comforted, and I’ve been able to remember Koda with love.

So now, as I watch my sweet Owie hobble around the house, I feel dread and fear and the whisper of future panic.

Yet there are ways to embrace this stage of pre-grief. I’ll be writing about them soon.

For now, for maybe a few more days (or weeks?), I’m going to wallow in my denial. I think it’s okay to acknowledge the waning days of different feelings we feel, even if they’re not the best of choices (like refusing to face something).

I see it as being gentle with myself. For just a little while longer.

Denial, you see, is a built-in shock absorber. It lets reality in very slowly, so you don’t shatter completely.

But there’s a cost, too, which includes missing irreplaceable time with pets now and having regrets later about the connection you avoided by pretending everything was fine.

So my next letter to you will focus on shifting out of the fear into something I’ve yet to explore: active loving.

It sounds a bit uncomfortable. And also wonderful.

Are you pre-grieving an aging pet? Or watching your pet weather something terminal? I invite you to share how you’re coping… and how (or whether) you’re handling it, good or bad. This is a no-judgment space. 💗

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When you lose your beloved companion animal, the silence left behind can feel unbearable.

But that’s not just because of your grief and sadness…

In that quiet, empty space, many grieving pet owners find themselves replaying the last days or hours before the loss… Second-guessing decisions… Whispering quietly, “If only…” or “I should have…”

It’s painful, and it’s completely normal to feel guilt and self-reproach – even when every decision was made with care and the best intentions.

In fact, many people report that pet-loss guilt can last for months. Even years.

So how do you move past it? Is that even possible?

Why Guilt Takes Over After Pet Loss

First, understand that guilt is a totally normal (and awful) reaction to losing a much-loved pet. In a sense, it’s your mind’s attempt to regain control over something uncontrollable.

When loss strikes, it’s normal to try to make sense of what feels senseless, and to assign logic and search for reason. But too often, that search turns inward:

• I should have seen the signs earlier.

• I should have done more.

• It’s all my fault.

Veterinary grief specialists point out that guilt often surfaces because we overestimate our power to influence our pet’s fate. We imagine that, had we made a different choice, they’d still be alive.

But in truth, we acted with the knowledge, means, and love we had at the time. (You’re not alone if this feels incredibly hard to accept.)

The reality is, so much of life — illness, aging, sudden emergencies — lies beyond human control.

So your looping thoughts may play on painful repeat. But guilt often hides another emotion: Helplessness. We ache because our love for our pets is massive, yet our ability to change the outcome in the face of disease, accidents, or age is really quite small.

Guilt and the Lies It Tells

The biggest problem with guilt? It implies wicked wrongdoing. Regret, on the other hand, simply expresses a wish that things had unfolded differently — even when no fault existed.

So you may regret delaying a vet visit, but guilt suggests it was deliberate neglect — which rarely holds true for loving pet guardians.

When painful doubt appears — whether around euthanasia decisions, treatments, or chronic care — I invite you to return to your core intention. Almost always, every decision you made was rooted in compassion. And here’s the truth:

You made those choices out of love.

That love makes guilt unearned.

And compassion — for your pet and for yourself — is the ground from which true healing grows.

When Self-Blame Stalls Healing

Another massive blow that comes with guilt is how it quietly blocks your healing. Guilt keeps you anchored in the past. It stops you from remembering your pet with warmth. Instead, your memories are all tinged with anguish.

I acknowledge that sometimes guilt feels like loyalty. Because in the depths of grief, letting go of pain feels like letting go of love.

But guilt doesn’t preserve love; it preserves suffering.

The real love you had for your pet survives in memory, in the gentle way you speak their name, and in every act of kindness you offer in their honor.

Releasing your guilt isn’t forgetting — it’s continuing the bond you shared with your pet in a softer, more peaceful way.

The Many Vile Faces of Guilt

Another challenge brought on by guilt is not even realizing you’re stuck there. Guilt in pet loss can show up as:

• Feeling responsible for missing early signs of illness.

• Regretting decisions around the treatments you chose, or euthanasia.

• Believing financial or time limits somehow failed your pet.

• Replaying accidents or missteps that led to their death.

• Worrying you didn’t comfort them enough at the end.

Guilt emotions can be powerful and all-consuming. But the truth is, and I suspect this is very true for you, every pet guardian makes the best decisions they can at the time.

We all have to face our human limits, just as much as we embrace our capacity for deep love.

Looking back, guilt and the pain it brings can distort your memory of what really happened at the end. Yet the reality is that you acted with the best of intentions.

Walking the Never-Straight Path to Forgiveness

Acknowledging your guilt is the first step toward letting it go. Denying it only makes it stronger.

Try opening up — whether to a counselor, a trusted friend, family member, or even another pet. Relaying your feelings to others allows you to hear your story through a kinder lens.

Sometimes, even just speaking the words out loud reveals how merciless you’ve been toward yourself.

Many people find healing by writing a letter to their pet. This heartfelt exercise lets you express everything left unsaid.

Maybe you’ll find yourself expressing sorrow.

Or gratitude.

Or a deep, tearful apology.

Imagine it as a loving dialogue that transforms your guilt into grace. And ask yourself: What would my pet say back?

They wouldn’t hold blame. They’d remember your devotion, your voice, and the daily comfort you gave.

Or, look at it this way… your pet loved you without condition, and would want you to offer yourself that same mercy.

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What Guilt Isn’t

As grief experts often remind us, guilt can feel like proof of love — but it’s not.

It’s really just evidence of pain.

Similarly, healing doesn’t erase your bond. It honors it. To heal is to carry that love forward, not as a heavy, achy burden, but as a steady, guiding light.

When you forgive yourself, you make room for gratitude — gratitude for the years together, for the lessons your pet taught you, and for the compassion they ignited in your heart.

To Carry You Forward

You did not fail your pet. You cherished them. You gave them comfort, safety, and joy.

Their life was brighter because of you.

The guilt you feel only shows how deeply you cared. So here’s your takeaway: love is meant to free, not bind.

The next time self-blame surfaces, take a slow breath. Speak your pet’s name softly and with affection. Let love — not guilt — be the legacy that carries you forward.

Any questions? Just reply to this email, or reach out on Substack at any time. 💗

And if it’s a fit, I invite you to share your own experience with guilt regarding pet loss. I’m here to listen.

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When a beloved pet dies, the loss can feel almost unbearable. You miss the pitter-patter of their little feet, or the way they knew exactly when you needed comfort.

What makes it so painful is that pets aren’t just animals to us—they’re family. They listen without judgment. They love without conditions. They hold space for us in a way few humans can.

That’s why their absence leaves such a profound silence. And yet, even in that silence, there’s a way to keep them close. Many grieving pet parents find solace in creating a tribute—a gentle act of remembrance that both honors their pet’s life and helps the heart to heal.

Why a Pet Tribute Helps With Healing

A tribute isn’t about letting go; it’s about staying connected in a different way. It’s a way of saying, “You mattered. You still do.”

You might write a letter to your pet, frame a favorite photo, plant a tree, or piece together a memory box filled with their collar, tags, or toys. However you choose to create it, the act of remembrance gives form to your love—and that helps grief begin to soften around the edges.

The process itself can be deeply therapeutic. It turns emotional pain into creative expression. It reminds you that your relationship didn’t end when their life did. It simply changed shape.

Turning Grief Into Remembering

One of the hardest parts of losing a pet is how quickly life expects you to “move on.” But grief doesn’t work on a schedule, and love certainly doesn’t expire. Tributes give your love somewhere to go.

They also invite gratitude into the grieving process. As you gather stories or choose photographs, you inevitably find yourself remembering the joy, the laughter, the companionship. The focus begins to shift—from what you lost to what you were lucky enough to have.

For many people, this shift marks the beginning of healing. And sometimes, it even opens a door to something unexpected: peace.

Gentle Ways to Honor Your Pet

There’s no wrong way to create a tribute. What matters is that it feels personal and true to the bond you shared. Here are a few ideas that often bring comfort:

• Wearable Keepsakes. A necklace with a paw print or a locket holding a bit of fur can be a daily reminder that love stays close.

• Living Memorials. Plant a tree or create a small garden in their memory—a space that keeps growing, just like your love.

• Story Collections. Gather favorite photos or notes from family and friends who knew your pet. Their shared memories can lift you on harder days.

• Artistic Expressions. Commission a portrait, paint a stone for your garden, or write a poem just for them. These pieces become timeless reflections of the bond you shared.

• Rituals of Remembrance. Light a candle on their adoption date or birthday. Speak their name often. Ritual keeps the connection alive.

Each small choice becomes a way to care for your own heart while honoring theirs.

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A Love That Doesn’t End

Grieving the loss of a pet is not about erasing pain—it’s about integrating it into the bigger story of your love. Over time, the tribute you create becomes a symbol of both loss and endurance.

One day, you’ll realize you can look at their picture and smile—not because you’ve forgotten, but because your bond has settled into something eternal. The love remains, just in a quieter form.

So when you’re ready, choose a way to remember. Create something beautiful, even simple. Let it represent that unspoken truth every pet parent knows:

Love never really leaves. It just finds a gentler way to stay.

Not long ago, a friend reached out and said, “I feel like I should be doing better by now… but I’m still crying every day.”

I get that. I’ve been there too. When you lose a pet — a soul that shared your everyday world — people will offer all kinds of well-meaning advice.

“Take a walk.”
“Practice self-care.”
“Try gratitude journaling. It helps.”

And while there’s a benefit in each of those suggestions, there’s also a time when none of them fit. A time when what you actually need is permission to not be okay.

Sometimes, healing means just sitting in your grief — no fixes, no forced positivity, no timeline.

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The Myth of Moving On

Growing up, most of us were taught that tears make us weak. We learned to hide them, to cheer up fast, to look for the silver lining before we even knew the storm had begun.

But crying over your pet does not make you fragile. It makes you human.

Grief is love with nowhere to go. It’s the most natural, honest human response to losing something precious.

And when we don’t give it space — when we keep pushing it down — it doesn’t vanish. It leaks out in other ways: anxiety, exhaustion, maybe even that numb feeling where you can’t connect to much of anything.

Sitting with the Sadness

If you’ve been avoiding the heartbreak, maybe it’s time to pause — just for a moment — and let it surface.

Grieving might mean lying in bed longer than usual. Letting the tears come. Talking to their photo. Whispering your pet’s name and remembering what it felt like when they were right there next to you.

It doesn’t have to be graceful. It doesn’t have to be “productive.”

Sometimes, your only job is to let your grief breathe.

Because here’s the truth: pausing the gratitude and sitting in the discomfort doesn’t erase your healing. It begins it.

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Healing Isn’t About Forgetting

You don’t have to go hunting for the lesson or look for a bright side before you’re ready. That can wait.

For now, just feel what’s real. Cry. Remember. Shout if you must. Curl up in a quiet corner and let the ache move through you.

Giving in to grief isn’t giving up — it’s an act of love. It’s how you honor the incredible, life-changing bond you shared.

So if you’re in that place right now, please know this: it’s okay to grieve exactly as you need to. You have full permission.

The bond you shared with your pet mattered — and it still does.

P.S. If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear from you.

What’s one small way you’ve given yourself permission to grieve your pet lately? A quiet moment, a ritual, or even just letting yourself cry?

I read every reply and often find comfort in knowing we’re not alone in this.

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The tears came in waves — often at the sight of the little balls he loved to chase, or his leash hanging by the door. Sometimes it was the flip of that, and tears sprang up from moments of joy, perhaps while out on a walk or because of something funny I heard, and I instantly felt guilty.

How could I laugh when my heart was so broken?

Then there were the “nothing days.” Days where I felt nothing, thought nothing. Reveled in the detachment of being numb and hollow. Like the world had lost its color and relieved me of feeling anything.

At night, I searched online for answers. Wondered if my grief was “normal.” It didn’t feel normal. I knew no one who’d had a breakdown because of losing a pet.

I found very little online that validated my grief. It seemed everyone else in the world handled their sadness better than me.

But here’s the quiet truth I eventually learned:

Grief doesn’t follow a script, and there’s no single correct way to experience it.

But when you’re in it, that truth can be hard to believe.

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The “Standard But Scary” Playbook

If you’ve ever caught yourself thinking, “This can’t be normal,” then it probably is.

Here are some of the feelings that often hit after we lose a beloved pet (that we’re usually not at all prepared for):

• You might feel angry — at the vet, at fate, at yourself, or even (quietly) at your pet for leaving. Anger is grief’s way of protecting the heart from collapse.

• You might feel relief — especially if your pet was ill or suffering. Relief doesn’t cancel love; it means your heart was holding tension for way too long.

• You might feel waves of guilt — replaying “what ifs” and “if onlys.” Guilt is how our minds grasp for control when life feels uncontrollable.

• You might laugh or feel joy — and then instantly question it, as I did. But those moments of emotion are not betrayals; they’re evidence that life still flows through you, and your pet’s memory is part of that energized current.

• You might not cry at all — some people go frozen inside of their grief. But numbness is an ancient nervous system defense, not a lack of love.

• You might feel physical pain — tightness in your chest, fatigue that runs bone-deep, or waves of nausea. The body carries grief, too.

• You might revisit old losses — human or animal — that rise back to the surface. Grief, the stinker, often travels in bundles.

• You might have vivid dreams — of your pet alive and well, or of searching for them and never finding them. Dreams are the psyche’s way of processing what the heart can’t yet hold in waking life.

Every one of these reactions feels uncomfortable, maybe even frightening when it’s happening.

We start to wonder if something is broken inside us.

But know that these are all forms of love, transformed. Grief is the way love metabolizes what it can no longer touch.

A Tiny Grounding Idea

The next time you catch yourself thinking, “I’m doing this wrong,” or “it shouldn’t be this hard,” pause for just a breath.

Place a hand on your heart, and say softly — even if you don’t fully believe it yet —

“This, too, is part of my grief.”

That small sentence is an anchor. It invites your humanity back into the present moment.

Whatever you’re feeling — sadness, irritability, laughter, emptiness — it’s simply your way of stewarding love across time.

Maybe that looks like crying at a random commercial. Maybe you’re angry that the world keeps spinning. Maybe you forgot for an hour that your pet is gone, and then crashed hard when you remembered. (This was me, a lot.)

Every person’s grief path looks different.

Your grief might be quiet or invisible to the outside. It could be loud and messy.

Some days, you might want to talk about it constantly. Other days, not at all.

You might express your feelings by continuing to do things you used to do with your pet, like sit in the garden or go on long walks. Or you might find yourself avoiding those spaces entirely.

All of it counts. All of it is right, though not easy.

But there’s no clear path to overcoming grief. No test to pass to prove your love.

What Helps Most

Healing doesn’t mean forgetting or “moving on.” It means integrating the love, the loss, and the lessons into a bigger version of who you are.

It means learning to trust your body’s signals instead of judging them. When tears come, let them. When the tears stop, let that happen too.

If you can add one small action into your routine this week, let it be this:

Notice without correcting.
The next time a feeling surprises you — relief, anger, guilt, even peace — don’t push it away. Just notice it. “Ah. Here’s this.”

Simply taking notice of your feelings builds compassion. Over time, compassion steadies you far more reliably than control ever can.

And somewhere in that compassion, something starts to soften.

You may even begin to sense — in an image, a memory, a phrase that floats through your thoughts — that your pet’s love is still near. Different, yes, but not gone.

Take this with you as you move about your day: Grief is a landscape, not a straight path. Some parts are steep and stormy, others unexpectedly gentle. But wherever you are on that terrain, there’s no wrong step. Every feeling you feel and acknowledge along the way is evidence of the bond that shaped your life.

You’re not grieving wrong.

You’re grieving because you loved right.

I’d love to hear from you.

Reply with one feeling you once thought was “wrong,” but now recognize as part of your grief.

Just one word is enough.

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Though I’ve loved and lost, it’s been limited to distant relatives and others removed by time and geography.

The pets I’ve loved and lost went suddenly. Unexpectedly.

That in itself holds pain, and I’ll write about it soon.

But the experience of looming pet death is new to me. And yet, I sense it’s possible this year. Maybe probable.

(Every fiber of my being wants to erase those last two sentences.)

My sweet dogs Owie and Posa are getting on in years. Owie is 14, Posa is 12. And for Cavaliers, those are ripe old ages.

They’re still fit and in good health… for their ages.

Fireworks and thunder are no longer a problem now that they’re mostly deaf.

Walking around the block is more of an amble, a chance to not just sniff everything in sight as if they’re lost in a second puppyhood, but also an obstinate exercise in refusing to move when they’ve reached their limit (like the end of the street).

They sleep away most of the day, only really coming to life at mealtimes and when the kitchen smells like scrambled eggs.

Their ever-louder snores are my daily companions, serving as a sort of comfortable white noise amidst the beeps and whirs of a modern, digitized home.

If I’m being honest, I don’t spend a lot of intentional time with them. Mostly because time with an old dog is an exercise in patience, and I’m currently mired in that cursed space of hurrying through everything because there isn’t time enough for anything.

So today, New Year’s Day, I slowed down.

I leashed up Owie—Posa was snoring away, oblivious. We took what felt like a 30-minute walk just to the next block. He sniffed, he peed, he stopped and looked around as if the world was brand-new.

I forced myself to wait. To talk to him, even though he can’t hear me. To reach down and scratch his silky neck. To gently coax him forward, not yanking but just suggesting.

I’d like to tell you it was a magical first-day-of-the-year walk.

But really, it was a massive test in self-restraint. And love.

It’s something I want to work on more this year, with intentionality. I want to cultivate these sweet-pup moments and savor them and take the time to tell my little animal friends how much they mean to me before they’re gone and I’m hit with pain and regret at not taking the time to tell them those things.

Part of me thinks I don’t have it in me. I’m brisk. Efficient. A speed-walking champion.

So spending a whole year intentionally savoring moments with my pets seems… soft.

But is it? Or is it brave?

Is it going to be as hard as I think it’ll be?

Might it be completely worth it? Or will I have regret and pain regardless?

I don’t know. That’s why I’m committed to sharing it all here, with you. And I’d be so grateful if you shared your own, similar stories. I hope we learn from one another.

To a beautiful 2026 with our pets. Thank you for being here.

But the emotion a lot of people struggle with, and feel guilty about, is the feeling of relief.

Yet grief makes sense, too — especially if your pet was suffering from an illness, disease, or the menaces of old age.

And since relief feels so different from sadness (i.e., doesn’t feel bad), it adds a whole new layer of confusion to your healing journey. So here are some ways to deal with the confusing feeling of relief amidst the sadness.

Because We Wish We Could Fix It All

Watching any loved one suffer is traumatic. And with pets, this reaction is sometimes magnified.

Part of that is because as their humans, we’re making all the decisions. We don’t know exactly what is going wrong, where it hurts, or what to do about. It’s as gutting as having a young child in pain and feeling helpless because they can’t articulate what’s wrong.

On top of that, money complicates things. With a child, all the tests and labs and treatments that might make a difference are performed. But with a pet, it often comes down to, “Yes we could fix that problem, but for several thousand dollars.”

Worst of all, we can’t honor the last wishes or respect the dying requests of our pets.

So the pain of watching them suffer gets bigger and bigger, heightened when death finally comes.

That’s when relief settles in, even as we’re grappling with the pain of loss. Relief that they’re out of pain. Relief that there are no more crushing decisions to be made. Relief to not be facing impossible money decisions.

And then comes the guilt of feeling relieved. It’s a vicious little cycle, this merry-go-round of grief.

More Than a Big Sigh

The thing about relief is that it’s not a bad feeling. It’s not something to be ashamed of.

Relief is simply a new stage of grief. It’s the acknowledgement that one season of life has ended and another has begun.

Still, relief and guilt complicate the grieving process. A few ways to help manage that are to:

• Pour on the self-care. It’s tempting to want to punish yourself for the relief you feel. But how would it be to instead focus on sleep, healthy food, or a walk with sunshine on your face? This is essential self-care throughout the grief cycle. It helps with feelings of relief. And probably your pet would prefer that you’re not tortured.

• Reframe the thought. You’re not relieved that your beloved pet has died. The relief is more about the stress, pain, and uncertainty finally being over.

• Find connection with supportive people. Whether you turn to a therapist, a friend who loves pets and has been through loss, or our Healing From Pet Loss Community, it’s important for your grief and relief to be heard.

Remember, all these feelings are a normal, albeit painful part of the pet grieving process. Please give yourself the space, time, and support to navigate these complex emotions.

And know that you’re not alone in feeling this way.