The One Thing Grieving Pet Owners Wish They'd Done Sooner

This powerful tool for moving through your grief toward joy isn’t talked about enough in the pet loss world — but it makes a profound difference (and the research even agrees).

One of the many unexpected things that hits after pet loss is what I describe as a “craving for presence.”

It happens when the world cruelly and adamantly continues spinning despite the pain you’re navigating. It almost makes the loss feel imagined, like you were living in a dream and now that you’ve had a cruel wake-up, your pet and the life you had with them never existed.

(Keep in mind that our brains do crazy things while in grief.)

For many, this feeling manifests as a kind of cognitive search party where you’re constantly on the lookout for the pet who passed.

You might look for them at the front door when you arrive home each day.

Or maybe your eyes flit to the particular indent they left in a couch cushion.

Or toward the corner where their bed was.

Or the spot by the window where the sun hit just right in the afternoon and you could always find them savoring a luxurious afternoon nap.

For me, it was the dog bed under my desk. Large enough for a hundred-pound dog, it was where my two Cavaliers often cuddled and where I’d find Koda snoring at my feet during early morning writing sessions.

After he passed, my early morning writing sessions looked like me crawling under the desk and curling up in his spot on the red velvet cushion. Then I’d cry. Then I’d try to… I don’t really know. Feel his presence, I guess you could say?

What I understand now is that this stemmed from my own urgent need to hold onto something that connected us, that said he was real and our morning ritual was real and the love doled out from that ruby-furred creature was absolutely real. In other words,

It wasn’t my imagination that this was one of the most validating and loving relationships of my life.

Also, this search for realness following pet loss isn’t pathological. And it’s not just me who did it — I’ve heard loads of other people describe similar experiences.

It’s about love that’s gone missing, that you instinctively go try to find.

So today I want to talk about tributes, because they serve a similar function. It’s a way to say you are not forgotten. You’re still here in my heart. I know you and love you and remember you.

This Research Flipped What We Thought We Knew About Grief

For a long time, grief psychology operated on a clear assumption: healing meant detaching. Cutting the cord. Not looking back. Focusing on the future.

We know now that this model was not just incomplete. For many people, it was actively harmful, and if we’re being really honest… it stunk.

Especially when it came to helping someone come to terms with a loss.

The Continuing Bonds framework, developed by grief researchers Klass, Silverman, and Nickman in 1996, introduced a different idea. It was about the upside of maintaining an ongoing relationship with the one you’ve lost, through memories, rituals, or tributes.

Most importantly, these actions are not a sign of unhealthy grief. Quite the opposite. For most people, it’s exactly how healthy grieving works.

This matters especially when it comes to pet loss, where cultural permission to grieve is already thin to nonexistent. The idea of actively honoring your pet after they’ve passed can feel indulgent. Even strange.

But it isn’t. It’s deeply, anciently human.

Why There’s No Wrong Way

The best tribute is the one that feels right to you when it comes to remembering and honoring your pet. There’s no correct version; no wrong way to do it.

Maybe you opt for

• A photo book with handwritten captions — not a polished slideshow, but the kind you’d sit down and look through slowly, commenting out loud.

• A small altar or dedicated corner: a photo, a candle, something of theirs. Different cultures have created these spaces for centuries — the Japanese butsudan, the Mexican ofrenda.

• A letter to your pet — one you don’t send to anyone.

• A donation to a rescue in their name.

• A memorial tattoo.

• A custom portrait.

• A tree planted somewhere meaningful.

• A recurring remembrance on the anniversary of the day you got them.

When Koda passed, I went through my phone and printed every single photo I’d ever taken of him — even if he just happened to be in the background of something else I was taking a picture of. It was important to me to have the photos in my hand, not just on my phone.

When my grief would get unbearable, I’d thumb through the photos, remembering the many days of happiness I had with him. Most of the time, I had his collar around my wrist while doing this.

So it wasn’t a fancy or grandiose tribute, and it wasn’t on display and I didn’t share it with anybody. But it helped me, and that was the whole point.

When to Start Your Tribute

A lot of people ask me when is the right time to make a tribute, and again — there’s no wrong time. You can create a tribute long after your pet has passed, or you can start on it when you know their beautiful days will soon be coming to an end.

But there’s one thing I’ve noticed about tribute timing, which is that most people who look back say the same thing: they wish they’d started earlier.

Not because earlier is better or because grief has any kind of schedule. Rather, it’s because creating a tangible tribute — gathering photos, writing a sentence, lighting a candle — gives you something to do with your hands and your mind when grief has you otherwise feeling helpless and formless.

Grief researchers also note that meaning-making activities like tribute-building are among the more reliable predictors of healthy grief integration over time.

Note that this isn’t rushed healing or tidy resolution. It’s just a way to honor our very human need to make tangible something that deeply mattered to us.

Also, don’t think of it as something that needs to move to completion. You certainly can create a tribute and feel like it’s complete. You can also consider it an ongoing process, adding to whatever you create as the memories drift through your mind.

So I invite you to just start. Start whatever feels right to you. Just getting started is enough to say that the loss of your pet’s life mattered to you, and that’s really the first step in honoring your grief.