You’re driving somewhere. You’re washing dishes. You’re about to fall asleep.

And the questions start to flood.

Did I wait too long?

Did I do it too soon?

Was it the right call?

Should I have gotten a second opinion?

Did he know I was there?

Did she know how much I loved her?

I’ve talked to a lot of people navigating pet loss, and this — what I call “the replay” — is almost universal among those who made the decision to euthanize.

It doesn’t seem to matter how carefully you thought it through, how much guidance you got from the vet, or how peaceful the final moment was. The question comes back anyway.

Before we dive in, I want to say this: I think those questions flood back because you loved your pet so much. That’s a major part of grief: wishing things had gone differently, even when you did everything you could.

Why This Decision Is Different From Other Types of Pet Loss

When you lose a person close to you, you’re usually a witness. You didn’t make the final call. You didn’t set a time. You weren’t handed the responsibility of deciding when enough was enough.

With pet euthanasia, you were. And that’s a weight that doesn’t have a human equivalent that I know of. Even withdrawing life support from a human is a passive step toward death, where you’re stopping life-sustaining interventions and letting an underlying disease take its natural course.

In most cases, you were either asked, or you decided on your own, to choose an act of profound love in the form of letting go. An act that says: I care more about your comfort and peace than about having more time with you.

That’s not a small act. It’s not a small thing to carry after it’s done.

And because it required a very black-and-white decision with a set moment at a precise date on a calendar, your brain can keep returning to that moment, wondering and asking and re-asking whether you got it exactly right.

Whether there was another option.

Whether you moved too fast or waited too long.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: the question isn’t really about whether you got it right. It’s about whether you loved them enough.

And the answer to that one is clear.

For Those Who Chose Too Soon and Those Who Waited Too Long

Both groups feel equally guilty. I’ve heard from both.

The guilt is the same on both sides. Which shows that the guilt isn’t actually about the timing…

It’s about how much you cared, and how impossible it is to hold that much care in the face of an unbearable decision, and how the brain keeps looking for the version of events where you could have done it perfectly.

There was never going to be a perfect, easy answer. There was only you, loving them the best way you knew how, doing the hardest thing ever.

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The Simple Shift That Helps Your Pain

I can’t tell you the replay ever stops completely. At least not for a while.

What I’ve found, both for myself and from listening to others, is that the intensity of the decisions related to your pet’s death will change when you stop fighting the question and start responding to it differently.

If you find yourself again wondering, “Did I wait too long?” or “Did I decide too soon?” — don’t try and answer it.

Don’t work to justify it.

Don’t berate yourself about it.

Instead, acknowledge it.

Try something like, “I hear you. That’s a hard question, and it’s impossible to answer. But what I do know is that I loved him so much. And I did the best I could with the knowledge I had at the time.”

This saves you from even trying to answer the question. It keeps you from arguing around it. Simply acknowledge that the question is there, and that it comes from love.

It doesn’t make the swirling questions stop. But it does make them feel less like accusations and more like grief, which is what it actually is.

What Really Matters In the End

Never forget that above all, you showed up for your sweet pet. In the end, when everything got hard, you showed up.

In the end, that’s what matters.

And it matters more than the timing ever could.

I still remember answering the door with my tear-streaked face. A man with a shy smile stood there, holding a box. His expression turned to concern when he saw me. He awkwardly held out the box and said, “Your sister asked me to bring you this.”

You see, when Koda died, my sister lived across the country. So she called my favorite local bakery and sweet-talked the manager into hand-delivering a pie to my door.

I still think about that. She was far away; she couldn’t be there to hold my hand. Yet she found a way to show up anyway. It remains one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.

But here’s the thing: that kind of love-in-action following pet grief is far too rare.

It’s not because people don’t care. They do. But most of them don’t really know what to do when someone suffers pet loss — because a pet dying doesn’t come with a social script. There’s no standard ritual. No go-to card section at the grocery store. No one stopping by the house a week or two later to ask how you’re holding up.

What I mostly got was: “Oh, I’m so sorry.” And then the conversation moved on within thirty seconds.

I very clearly remember sitting in my grief, wondering why my world was shattered but no one else seemed too affected. Was there something wrong with me, that I got so wrecked? Had I not loved him enough for it to count?

It’s taken me years to really sift through all the emotional/cultural/social implications of pet loss. And ultimately, there was nothing wrong with me.

There’s nothing wrong with you, either, if you relate to all this.

There’s an Actual Name for What’s Happening

A grief researcher named Kenneth Doka came up with the term disenfranchised grief. Here’s how he defined it:

Disenfranchised grief is grief that persons experience when they incur a loss that is not or cannot be openly acknowledged, socially sanctioned, or publicly mourned.

In other words, it’s

• Grief that society doesn’t recognize as legitimate.

• Grief that doesn’t get rituals.

• Grief that doesn’t get acknowledged at work.

• Grief that doesn’t warrant pie (or flowers, or casseroles) — unless you have the rare phenomenal person in your life like my sister.

It’s not the only kind, of course. There are loads of other types of disenfranchised grief in our culture:

• Pregnancy loss and infertility.

• Death by suicide.

• Losing a friend you were close to but not officially family with.

• Divorce.

• Estrangement from family.

• Death of a patient.

• Grief following adoption.

That’s only a bit of it; the list is actually really, really long. I’ll go into it in depth in another article.

What I really hope you take away from this is that the grief itself is real; our culture just hasn’t caught up.

The effect is real, too. And here’s what it does to you: it doesn’t just make you lonely. It makes you question yourself. You’re already in pain, and then you spend mental energy wondering whether the pain is appropriate.

Whether you’re overreacting.

Whether other people think you’re being ridiculous.

That second layer — the self-doubt layer — is sometimes the worst part.

Why It Can Actually Hurt More Than Losing a Person

That may seem like a strange thing to say. But I’ve heard it from enough people now, and felt it myself, and read the actual research behind it, to know it’s a valid point. Let me explain…

When you lose a human you love, people expect you to grieve. They make space for it. They ask about it. They check in. Even if they don’t do it perfectly, there’s social scaffolding around the loss.

When you lose a pet, you mostly grieve alone. And your pet was not just an animal you owned. It was an energetic being woven into your daily existence. Maybe they were your alarm clock, or your reason to come home, or your companion through those 3 am white-night worries.

Your relationship with your pet had a texture, a realness to it that’s hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it.

And consider this:

It demonstrates the same intensity, the same physical symptoms, the same process.

What’s different is that you don’t get the same support around it.

And that gap between the size of the loss and the size of the acknowledgment is where your pain lives.

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You Are Not Overreacting

I want to say this plainly, because maybe no one has said it to you yet.

What you’re feeling makes complete sense. The crying at random times, the not wanting to move their things, the way you still turn to look for them. You’re not being dramatic, not in any way. You’re just missing someone who was genuinely important to you.

Please know that you don’t need to shrink this grief to fit other people’s comfort level. You don’t need to be over it on a timeline that works for anyone else.

Because your love was real, the loss is real. That’s just how it works.

Why I Built This

I started this newsletter because when I was in the worst of my grief, I went looking for something to explain what I was going through. Something specific to pet loss — not just general grief advice recycled and relabeled.

But I couldn’t find it. So eventually, I built it. I knew I couldn’t be the only one.

And neither are you.

If you’re in the thick of it right now, hit reply and tell me where you are. I read everything. And I’m not going to tell you it gets easier on any particular schedule, because I don’t know your situation.

What I do know is that you don’t have to go through this alone. 💗

When you lose a pet, words don’t really fix the pain.

People help, but only so much.

What I’ve noticed (and what a lot of grieving pet parents tell me) is that being outside in some intentional way—planting something, walking somewhere your pet loved to go, putting your hands in the dirt—softens the grief when nothing else seems to.

This post is about exactly that: small, natural memorials that honor your pet and give a little back to the earth in the process.

Dirt and Sunlight as Powerful Healers

Time outside helps… a walk through a favorite park, an hour under the tree your pet used to nap beside, or even just sitting with your shoes off in the grass. These things lessen grief in a way that’s hard to explain but easy to feel.

Part of it is that nature keeps moving. Seasons turn, things grow back, and that constant evidence of change can remind you that love doesn’t disappear when a body does. It just takes a different form.

A lot of people find peace in the idea that their pet’s memory can live on in something that grows — a tree, a flower bed, a stretch of replanted woodland (even if it’s somewhere they’ll never see, in the case of a donation to reforestation groups).

Small rituals help, too. Picking up a stone on a walk. Carrying a clay pawprint in your pocket while you hike (I love that one). Watering a houseplant you bought the week your pet died.

None of it is dramatic, and that’s the point. It’s a quiet, physical, tangible way to say I still love you & I remember you with your hands.

Do This and Watch Something Extraordinary Happen to Your Grief

A tree, a shrub, or a wildflower patch planted in your pet’s honor is one of the most lasting tributes you can make. Pick somewhere meaningful — your yard, a path you walked together, maybe a hillside you both liked.

If you want, try to find a plant that suits them. Think sun-loving wildflower for a dog who lived for the outdoors. A soft fern for a quiet cat. An oak tree for a staid horse. Dancing marigolds for a pet lost all too young.

There’s no wrong way to do this. You get to choose the meaning and the message.

Another approach is to leave a small marker somewhere you’ll see it again. A painted stone, a flat slate with your pet’s name, maybe a piece of wood with a date carved into it. Over the years, the plant grows and the marker weathers, but ideally it’s a place you can always go back to.

Create a Sacred Corner

A home memorial garden can be as simple or as elaborate as you want it to be. I’ve decorated stones for mine and placed them under trees I planted.

Some people build a stone pathway with engraved markers. Some set out a bench. Some scatter their pet’s ashes directly into the soil, often using a biodegradable urn (bamboo and pressed cellulose are the most common), so the ashes become part of what feeds the next round of growth.

Lighting a lantern outside in the evening or putting fresh flowers in the garden bed each season can turn a space into something you actively visit instead of something you just look at.

If you want to add life to the space, plant things that draw it in, like bee-friendly flowers or milkweed for monarchs. Maybe a small bird feeder if you have the patience to refill it.

There’s something eternally comforting about watching the space your pet would have loved fill back up with wings and movement.

7 Outdoor Tributes That Go Beyond a Gravestone

If you don’t have space for a full garden, there are plenty of other good options.

• Walk one of your pet’s favorite trails on the anniversary of their passing and bring home a stone or a leaf.

• Volunteer for a park or beach cleanup in their name.

• Sponsor a tree through a reforestation nonprofit. Some let you dedicate the planting and send you a certificate with the location.

• Turn your pet’s water bowl into a planter. Herbs are nice for this. Tuck your pet’s tag into the soil or wrap their collar around the base.

These ideas may sound small when written out here. But actually doing something, and doing it with intention is what makes it meaningful.

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The Green Goodbye

Or, here’s a newer approach… a lot of pet parents are choosing greener alternatives to traditional cremation. Aquamation (also called alkaline hydrolysis) is the most common one.

It uses warm water and a small amount of alkaline solution instead of fire to return the body to the earth, and it produces a fraction of the emissions cremation does. The remaining liquid is nutrient-rich and safe to pour into soil if that feels right to you.

There are also urns made from recycled or upcycled materials, memorial stones poured from reclaimed concrete, and seed paper you can plant.

None of these choices are particularly momentous. But if you cared about how your pet lived, it can feel right to make their farewell match.

The Healing Power in Watching Something Grow

I think the reason living memorials work is that they’re slow. You can’t rush a tree. You water it, you weed around it, you watch it through winters where nothing happens, and one spring you realize it’s taller than you are.

Grief works similarly. It doesn’t go away on a schedule. It just changes.

Watching something grow where loss used to be is its own kind of comfort. With a tree, for instance, the bond you had never went away… it just transitioned into the soil and the roots and the shade you stand in on a hot afternoon.

And if any of this feels overwhelming, be assured that even the small gestures count, like a potted plant on the windowsill. Or maybe a stone you painted with your pet’s name and now keep on the kitchen shelf. Perhaps a few words said quietly outside.

None of it has to be impressive. It just has to come from you.

Tributes That Keep Your Pet’s Memory Alive for Generations

At the end of the day, memorializing a pet through nature isn’t only about remembering them. It’s about staying in some kind of relationship with them.

The garden you tend, the tree you watch through the seasons — all it offers you a place to store the love you have that’s still here.

I’m a big fan of planting something that will outlast you (ideally something hardy for your region). Or, do something annually, like scattering petals across a meadow once a year.

Maybe just sit on a bench and say your pet’s name out loud.

Whatever shape your tribute takes, just doing something makes it enough to count and to ease your grief.

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If you’ve ever been lucky enough to have someone truly believe in you and see the best in you, then you understand how devastating it would be to lose them.

So it is with our pets. They bring out the best in us. They see the best in us. Dig deep and you might realize you really were your best self around your pet.

But when that pet departs, it feels as though you’ve lost your identity and no longer know who you are.

If you lost your soul dog, like I lost mine, it’s absolutely like losing a part of yourself. Really, it’s like losing a part of your soul. The part that made you want to be better, that helped you feel calm or capable.

There’s no definitive way to move on after the loss of your pet and subsequent loss of identity, but there are ways to move forward.

Making Space… Eventually

One way to transition into your new identity without your pet is to make space for things that are now possible.

For example, let’s say you held off on traveling because you didn’t want to leave your pet alone or with someone else. Now, that option is a possibility. So maybe you take a few nights to explore a nearby town. Or maybe you go abroad for two weeks.

It doesn’t even have to be such a large-scale change.

Let’s say your pet was an older dog who needed ramps and large orthotic beds and rugs across your tile so he wouldn’t slip. All of these items are testaments to your love… but also, cleaning up and donating those items frees up space for new possibilities… maybe even new pets.

Discovering New Parts

In terms of identity, it’s also possible that you put forward certain parts of yourself for your pet, or because of your pet, and no longer have that desire, or that option.

Maybe it was as simple as taking a morning walk with your dog or trotting through the neighborhood on your horse.

You made it a routine out of love. But now, you realize you can use that time to join an exercise class or sleep in or start your workday sooner.

Maybe it was your commitment to an evening of reading or Netflix so your cat could curl up on your lap and purr to his heart’s content. But there’s no longer the pull to sit in your favorite chair and not move for an hour or two each night.

It’s okay to shed that part of you that was created for or to accommodate your pet. It’s okay to make room for new parts and explore other areas of your personality.

Lingering Forward Progress

But while we’re on the subject of cleaning out… it’s also important not to rush it.

Something as simple as a water bowl or a cat bed, once gone, can feel devastating just by its absence.

If it breaks your heart to clean up the symbols and belongings of your pet, then don’t. Wait a while. Make peace with the slowness of getting used to the idea that your life has shifted.

Consider removing one item at a time, spaced out by days or weeks.

Give yourself space to think about what might be worth keeping because it makes you feel connected to your pet. It might be something you’d want to put in a pet memory box if you choose to make one.

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Lifequakes and the Education of the Soul

In the book Life is in the Transitions, author Bruce Feiler writes that, “Lifequakes may be voluntary or involuntary, but navigating the transitions that flow from them can only be voluntary.”

You’re best off meeting them head-on, naming them, addressing them, sharing them, and when you’re ready, converting them into soul education.

In the crazy flurry that took place last week across American stores stockpiled with colorful bouquets and rows of pastel cards and even glitter balloons…

There was something missing.

Don’t get me wrong; I love Mother’s Day. I am a mother. I have a mother. It’s one of my favorite days of the year because, thanks to my amazing family, it’s the one day I do absolutely nothing.

But all the hubbub and celebration is dedicated to a very specific kind of woman: the one who carried a human child. The one who packs lunches and schedules orthodontist appointments and claps at recitals.

That woman deserves every glittery, embossed word of gratitude and whatever flowers, brunch, and sweet jeweled gift that might accompany them—on any day, not just Mother’s Day. Because Mothering is hard.

But there are lots of mothers the cards forgot...

• Like the woman who sets her alarm for 2 AM to syringe-feed a kitten that fits in the palm of her hand.

• Or the woman who wakes up twice throughout the night to take her aging dog outside because he’s lost control of his bladder.

• Or the woman who googles, at midnight with tears running down her face, whether her gecko’s color change means stress or shedding.

Maybe this woman was never pregnant. Maybe she’s never been called “Mom” by anything that can speak.

But by every meaningful measure of the word, she is absolutely and completely a mother.

The 3 AM Test

My working definition of motherhood is this:

When something fragile cries out in the dark, do you get up?

Do you assess?

Do you offer love even when you’re tired or hungry or stressed with your own life?

You don’t do it because anyone will praise you. You’re not fascinated by the cry or drawn to intellectually problem-solve.

You do it, you drag yourself out of that bed, because there is a small, fragile life on the other end of that sound. Somewhere deep inside, you know that you are meant to care for it and help it through its troubles.

Because that life is in your hands.

When you look at it that way, it’s really no different from the woman pacing the living room with a colicky newborn. The woman pacing the living room with an anxious rescue dog is doing the exact same precious work.

And even though that human baby will probably grow up to write her own appreciation for her mom, initially with rainbows and later with jagged poems and eventually with store-bought greeting cards...

The dog never will.

But the love that comes from both is identical in appreciation and emotion.

Love Isn’t Stratified

I bring all this up because I’ve observed a subtle snobbery in our world about what kind of love “counts.” Love from children, of course. Spouses, perhaps. Parents, naturally.

But pets? Is it the same?

Should we classify it or put that love in hierarchical order?

Are those mothers less than? Are they just different?

No. None of that. They are mothers. Mothers are mothers. Love is love.

Caring for another living being is not a static definition. It’s not a black and white image that has to fit into a certain box.

It doesn’t matter if the creature has hooves or scales or paws or big blue eyes and golden hair.

It doesn’t matter if that love comes from a hamster mom buying a bigger habitat because she read that standard cages are too cramped and cause stress.

Or the bird mom who spent hours on YouTube learning to clip wings safely so her cockatiel could flap around her apartment.

Or the reptile mom who runs a humidifier nightly in her bedroom because that’s what her ball python needs to thrive.

These women are not playing a game. They don’t do it just for fun. It’s actual, often unglamorous, usually expensive, invisible labor that keeps a vulnerable life going.

That is mothering.

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What You Give Without Thinking

If you’re a pet mom, you maybe never sat down to tally up all you’ve given, because you do it all without hesitation.

But if you were to list everything out, it’s staggering. Think about it...

• You’ve rearranged trips around feeding schedules.

• You skipped nights out because someone at home was scared of thunderstorms.

• You’ve spent grocery money on prescription food.

• You held your pet still while a vet worked and pretended to be calm so your pet would be calm.

• You’ve grieved losses that other people crushingly brushed off with, “It was just a pet.”

• You’ve been the steady presence in a life that depended entirely on you for everything.

And you did it all without any of the cultural scaffolding that human mothers benefit from (though I want to add there’s plenty to be improved in the human world in terms of honoring stepmothers and foster mothers and mothers who have no actual connection to kids but parent them all the same).

Back to the pet mother, there’s no baby shower. No parental leave. No school pickups where other moms nod knowingly or offer you a spot in the carpool.

It’s just you and a leash or a litter box or a tank or a saddle and your own daily, un-witnessed choice to show up.

And you’re doing it.

On Being Needed

Also, please never forget that there’s beauty in doing what you do. There’s a particular dignity that comes from being needed and answering the call from something that can’t fend for itself.

Plus, it’s a way to sidestep some of the limits around having children. You don’t need a uterus to be a devoted pet mom. You don’t need a marriage license or a partner.

You’re simply making the choice to, over and over again, put another creature’s needs alongside your own and treat them with respect.

This kind of devotion to guiding a creature through its life shapes you into a different person. Softer in some ways, fiercer in others. Maybe more patient. Probably more tired. Likely more tender.

All of this is what motherhood does to a human. It happens whether the dependent has fingers, feathers, or fur.

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A Nod From The Rest Of Us

So in honor of the United States’ recent Mother’s Day celebration, I’d like to give a nod to every woman who has ever

• woken up early to walk a dog in the rain

• talked baby talk to a parrot,,

• driven across town to find the particular brand of food her cat will tolerate,

• held a dying rabbit and whispered to it that it was loved,

• or made room in her life for the care of another…

Know that the world sees you. Or at least, right over here in this corner of it, we see you. I see you.

You may not have brought another human into this world, but you don’t need one in order to be celebrated for this particular honor.

What you did, what you’re doing, is noble and beautiful on its own: you took something small and breathing and you said, “I’ve got you. I am here for you.” You kept your word. That’s motherhood. That has always been the essence of motherhood.

Happy Mother’s Day yesterday, today, and all the days of the year. Thank you for what you do.💓

Think back to a time your life was punctured by grief…

How did you get through?

Maybe it’s hard to remember. Maybe you don’t feel like you’ve really gotten through it.

I hear you, and I relate.

I can share though, that the anthropology-lover in me has often found comfort in the first groundbreaking book about death: On Death and Dying, by Dr. Elizabeth Kübler-Ross.

Her book breaks down what she defines as the five stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

But every time I looked at it, I read her book wrong. I’d look at the stages and think, “Okay, I can check that one off… clearly now I’m on this one.”

The thing is, it doesn’t really work like that.

Some say it’s because Dr. Kübler-Ross missed a few stages and there should be seven (add initial shock and rebuilding).

Some say it’s non-linear and you might bounce around within the stages. (That’s been my experience.)

And while I think it’s very important to understand your feelings and grief in particular, and to use that as a framework for what you may be going through after pet loss…

I believe there’s just a lot more to grief. We’re only beginning to understand the layers. So here’s a new way to look at it…

Our Fledgling Grief Vocabulary

First, think of each stage of grief as a box. Within each box is a myriad of emotions.

A lot of us are well-versed in the obvious feelings: Mad, glad, sad, and so forth.

But there’s a crowd of deeper, nuanced emotions to dig into, and it helps to have the emotional vocabulary to understand what else you might be feeling. (Side note: It’s wonderful that “feeling words” are more commonly taught in schools these days. But if you’re over the age of 20, you’ve probably had to pick it up on your own.)

There are many more, but this gives you an idea of just how much deeper you can go in expressing grief related to pet loss.

They Jump Up and Surprise You

Matching a word to your grief is only the first step in understanding what you’re going through or have been through. Because if you’re anything like Impatient Me, you want to know when they’ll hit and for how long.

Frustratingly, that’s pretty much out of our control. Emotions aren’t simply line items to check off. What works instead, for me anyway, is to picture a merry-go-round — the kind you find in amusement parks with bobbing horses and stationary seals and benches throughout.

As the merry-go-round circles, some of those animals rise to the top and then come down.

Others are omnipresent, repeating, and always in your line of vision.

There are some you don’t notice until the ride has made three or four rotations. You think how did I never see that bobbing dolphin?

Your emotions around the grief of pet loss are like the rides on the merry-go-round. A handful are colorful and ostentatious. Others are drab and stationary. Some are constantly rising and falling. A few are your ever-present companions.

The ride does eventually stop… but it also might start up again, thanks to triggers and anniversaries.

Gradually though, the ride gets worn down and retired, removed from the foreground and trucked off to a warehouse.

Your pet-loss grief acts much the same way. Maybe it’s front and center right now, but eventually the ride will be retired — though it will always be in storage for you to revisit.

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The Tip of the Grief-Heavy Iceberg

Please note this is all meant to build on Dr. Kübler-Ross’s five stages. I think she gave us a brilliant launchpad for understanding some of the deeper layers of our human emotions. I’m grateful for that.

And there’s more yet to discover.

In a way, it’s frustrating. When I’ve been mired in grief, I’ve often wished I simply felt those first five, clear-cut stages. I’d like to plow through each of them in a linear, determined way and be done with it all.

But that’s simply not how we humans work. And when it comes to the complicated feelings around pet loss… well, it really is a merry-go-round.

One of the best parts about having a pet is the unconditional love they give us. Whether we’re moody, exhausted, cheeky, or checked out… our pets love us regardless.

Over time, this unconditional love becomes a profound sense of comfort. It’s unwavering. Unbreakable. The purest type of emotional safety imaginable.

Which is exactly why losing that pet and that emotional sustenance feels so intense and isolating.

If you’re working your way through pet loss, understanding this unique bond and how it affects your grief can help normalize the emotions you’re feeling.

It also paves the way for self-compassion throughout the mourning process.

The Unwavering Nature of Pet Love

The thing about pet relationships is that, unlike most human relationships, your bond with your pet isn’t burdened by judgment, expectations, or emotional complexity.

Pets love us consistently, purely, and without condition. They give us total acceptance in moments when we feel unworthy or vulnerable.

Our pets are our confidantes, emotional anchors, and reliable companions.

But it’s also this steady companionship that leads to a highly secure attachment. Our pets’ routines become woven into our days—the wagging tail at the door, the gentle purr in bed, the comfortable presence that requires no words.

So when this unconditional presence disappears, the heartache can be magnified by the sudden loss of emotional stability and daily security.

The Brain Impact of Losing Unconditional Love

Research has shown that the intensity of pet loss grief is directly connected to the depth of attachment we felt toward our pets before they passed.

Given that pets often serve as a primary source of spiritual and emotional support, their absence is a serious disruption to our sense of well-being.

Studies point to “deliberate rumination,” a process where bereaved pet owners find themselves replaying memories and moments with their departed companions, searching for meaning and reliving the comfort that’s gone missing.

These repetitive thoughts are a totally natural response to the trauma of loss. But also, they can lead to secondary emotions, such as guilt, self-doubt, and helplessness.

Neuroscience research has shown that grieving a pet activates the same brain pathways as grieving a human loved one.

From an emotional standpoint, this means pet loss can trigger profound sadness, anxiety, swings between anger and despair, and even physical symptoms like exhaustion or sleep disruption.

On top of all that, when you consider the lack of complicated dynamics in the pet-human relationship, it makes the void even harder to fill. This only intensifies our loneliness and exacerbates our grief.

Societal Challenges: Disenfranchised Grief

There’s another complicating factor. Because while pet grief is deeply rooted and real, many people feel misunderstood or minimized by others.

This phenomenon is known as “disenfranchised grief”—the sense that one’s loss is invalid or unworthy of sympathy. (We talk about this often here in this newsletter.)

This is why we hear (and cringe at) remarks like, “It was just a pet.” Even if the person saying this was well-intentioned (though ill-informed), those words can compound the pain, sometimes making people feel ashamed of the intensity of their emotions.

This lack of social validation just drives pet owners deeper into isolation. It creates additional barriers to healing. It leaves us stuck and hurting.

That’s why normalizing the heartbreak—acknowledging that the loss of unconditional love can be devastating—is a compassionate step toward feeling understood and supported.

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Coping Strategies and Pathways to Healing

What can you do about it? First and most importantly, creating space for grief, honoring memories, and embracing rituals can help transform your sorrow into gratitude for the bond that you had with your pet.

Tribute actions like planting a tree, framing cherished photos, writing journals, or participating in memorial services can give you tangible outlets for your emotional pain.

A lot of people also find comfort in memorializing specific qualities of their pet’s love, such as loyalty, playfulness, or unwavering presence.

Connecting with others who have experienced pet loss—whether through support groups, online communities, or counseling—can validate the depth of attachment and uncover the shared nature of grief.

And then taking part in self-care practices, like mindfulness or physical activity, can improve your mood and build your resilience, gradually shifting the focus from pain toward slow but steady healing.

The Lasting Impact of Unconditional Love

Even after loss, the continued bond with your beloved pet can shape your eventual personal growth, resilience, and empathy.

It stands to follow that focusing on your happy memories and the love you shared can help you really appreciate and reflect on the unique love your companion brought into your life. This leads you closer to acceptance and self-kindness.

Then over time, while the intensity of your grief may soften, the legacy of that unconditional love remains. Think of it as a quiet reassurance that your relationship with your pet mattered deeply.

And it’s completely normal for your pain to match the depth of that connection.

The Love Perspective

There’s no question that grieving a pet is an emotionally complex experience. So when you consider how your pet’s unconditional love for you amplifies your heartbreak, it helps you understand the magnitude of the loss.

It’s also evidence of just how meaningful these types of bonds are.

Honoring the emotional support your pet gave you and then creating space for that mourning is a beautiful way to acknowledge, and show appreciation for, your pet’s unconditional love

So if you’re mired in deep grief over the loss of your pet, remember: your grief is both valid and a testament to this one-of-a-kind, extraordinary, and completely unconditional love.

Grief after pet loss is weighty and huge. It might manifest as a feeling that sits heavy on your chest.

Or it might loom large in your life, like an omnipresent, uninvited guest that just won’t go away.

It could even feel like a boulder that blocks your view of anything in the future.

Or, as I like to put it, like a fat cow in the middle of the road that won’t let you pass.

When I was mired in pet grief, I’d wonder, “What do I do with all this grief?” Basically, how do I get rid of the great, big, roadblock cow?

And while it’s true that time heals helps everything, I’m not a big fan of waiting around in pain.

So it was a gift to discover that tapping into my own creativity was a powerful way to move through, push through, and re-channel that grief. It also became a path to creating beautiful memorials as a way to hang on to those precious memories.

Here are some ways you might embrace your own creativity as a compassionate tool to help honor your sweet pet and keep their memory vibrant in your heart.

A Bond, Repackaged

Freudian thinking on loss emphasizes detaching from the people who’ve departed from your life. It’s supposed to be the way to move on.

I find this silly. Because the last thing any of us want to do when we’ve lost someone dear is forget them and leave those memories behind.

Present-day research actually supports the opposite of Freud’s thinking, where you instead find ways to maintain that bond. And creating art that then becomes a memorial to your pet is a beautiful way to do that.

According to Dr. Shelley Carson, a lecturer at Harvard University and author of Your Creative Brain, Seven Steps to Maximize Imagination, Productivity, and Innovation in Your Life, there are two types of creativity: innovative creativity and expressive creativity.

Innovative creativity, says Dr. Carson, is ideal for challenges and problem-solving.

Expressive creativity, on the other hand, is about taking negative energy and channeling it into creative work. Doing this, she says, can help with processing loss or trauma. And there are many creative paths you can take, from writing to visual arts or music. All of these offer release and reflection beyond just words.

But even though creativity can help to heal and redirect grief, you may not feel super motivated to tap your creative side in the midst of your pain.

That’s where memorials come in. Because your creativity is channeled in a very specific direction, it can serve as a compassionate, grief-mitigating tool to both honor your pet and keep their memory vibrant.

Memorializing through Creativity

When you channel your sorrow and affection into a tangible commemoration for your lost pet, it creates a powerful path to healing. Your art then becomes a visual statement of love.

Here are some ways you can use creativity to channel your grief into a memorial:

#1: Tribute Writing:

Journaling is a well-known as a powerful way to release emotions. The best type of journaling, especially nowadays, is taking a real pen to paper as opposed to typing your feelings on a screen or tapping them out on a phone. In a study by Van der Weel and Van der Meer (2024), writing by hand was found to increase brain connectivity.

And because research shows that sadness effectively deactivates the left prefrontal areas of your brain (this is where positive emotions like joy and hope are processed), it wouldn’t be a bad thing to try and restimulate them.

Think of journaling your pet grief as writing a love letter to your pet. It then becomes something you can keep as a memorial; a testament to that beautiful bond you shared.

Just know that you don’t have to be able to put together beautiful, eulogy-worthy sentences to count as a memorial.

Write from your heart.

Write simply.

Write the words you feel.

Write about the memories that stand out.

An authentic letter, written from the heart, will always be a hundred times more powerful than something constructed to sound smart.

#2: Creating Art

Any kind of artistic medium that appeals to you can go a long way in helping to express your grief and become a tribute.

Painting, sketching, and sculpting are all potent approaches to physically articulate your emotions and capture your memories.

Scrapbooking or photo collages are a touching way to preserve those memories you don’t want to let go of.

The product of your art experience then becomes the keepsake. Frame it, hang it, or put it on a shelf where you’ll see it daily and be reminded of the beautiful connection you had with your pet.

#3: Making Music

Musical expression is another cathartic way to release grief through creative means. Because music affects our minds and bodies in a powerful way, it offers another outlet for grief. Similarly, music can be calming in a time where feelings of frustration, anxiety, and sadness often take over.

It doesn’t matter whether you create or participate in the music or simply listen to what others have created. Either way, it’s an outlet for feelings and sad memories.

Consider writing a song or creating a playlist that captures the way you felt about your pet and the connection you had to them.

Or, pick just a single song or two that brings back the happy memories. Play it whenever you feel yourself missing your pet, or when you want to embrace those good times.

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#4: Crafting Keepsakes

Any kind of keepsake that resonates with you can serve as a beautiful memorial to your pet.

While there are several pet keepsakes available through different online stores, the act of making your own beautiful keepsake is another way to work through grief and recapture those lovely times you had with your pet.

Photo albums, scrapbooks, memory boxes with your pet’s things, painted rocks, paw-print creations, or even blown-glass stones are all media for creating art that becomes a memorial.

It doesn’t have to be prescriptive, either. A keepsake is whatever you want it to be. Maybe that’s a framed picture of your pet with your written love letter tucked into the back. Maybe it’s a mug you paint at the local ceramic shop with drawings of favorite places you used to take your pet.

Maybe it’s even a rock you take from your garden and paint, as a testament to the many hours you spent there with your beloved pet.

And If You Aren’t An Artist?

You don’t actually have to be an artist by trade or even personal identification for any of this to work. We are creative beings by nature, and expressing that creativity in whatever way feels best to you is your right and your gift.

Besides, expressing grief for pet loss through any creative outlet is something you do for yourself, and perhaps also for close family. It’s not art to be rated or judged. It’s simply an expression of the love you felt for your pet, and that in itself is beautiful enough.

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.