Why Pet Loss is Different
I’ve been through the passing of good friends, family pets, close family, and both my grandparents and parents (whose death was especially hurtful and jarring as a child). I also volunteer at a grieving center for children where I go through regular training on the grieving process. By all accounts, I am quite familiar, well seasoned and well educated in the grieving process.
But I was still caught off guard and unequipped to properly handle Harold’s loss. His passing hit different than I anticipated, with a harsh, deep, lonely and unfamiliar pain. It was different than prior human loss. It was much different than prior pet loss.
So why is this the case? Through a lot of digging into the subject, journaling and soul searching, I landed on a few key points that helped me better understand why this grief has been so unique.
Harold was my soul dog. Simply put, I have never had a connection to an animal like I had with him. Prior pets were a shared responsibility that I enjoyed, but Harold was truly bonded. I’ve found that no words can properly describe that bond, and no one else could possibly see or comprehend it. And that is OK. That bond was between me and him. It was our own language and understanding. So many others also experience this type of amazing and unique bond with their animals. But this can cause frustrations and isolation when trying to cope with the grief of their loss because It’s nearly impossible to properly put feelings into words.
Animals have the capacity to love unconditionally and without judgement. This one is a biggie. No matter how close you are with a human, there is always going to be a little bit of baggage that comes along with any relationship. Humans are complex and human relationships can be quite messy. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just how we are built. But contrast this to the love a pet. They accept you just as you are, with all the faults and inadequacies. You don’t have to pretend in front of them. Sometimes it feels like they actually almost love you more when you’re down and out. It’s such a pure love with no contingencies. Losing that unconditional love leaves a massive hole and can throw you completely off your footing.
Society doesn’t value pet loss the same as human loss. And it’s not even close. This can lead to even more isolation than normal when dealing with grief, leaving you often feeling like you’re on an island all by yourself. Any empathy you might receive dissolves quickly, as most people will expect you to be over your loss in very short order. People will say things they think are appropriate but are extremely hurtful. Think about the very common “are you going to get another pet?” statement. We would never ask that question to parents who recently lost a child.
Our pets have the ability to ground us like nothing else. In a world of constant societal noise, our animals can provide that continual reminder of what’s truly important. There was no doubt that Harold was happiest when the whole family was together. When anyone was leaving the house, he tried to round up all the troops for a group adventure. When all of us were lounging on the couch, you could see pure bliss running through his veins. Having him around really helped me to stay focused on the ONE thing that truly matters in this world: time spent with those you love. With him gone I find myself much more at the whims of the world and all it’s distractions.
Animals become our home. After losing Harold, I quickly realized that home is not a location. It didn’t matter where we moved, how big or small a place was, whether we were traveling or on our usual turf, Harold was what made a place our home. He was the primary fixture and dominating presence of any place we’ve lived. If he didn’t leave the house with us, he was always there to greet us upon our return. Everything about home had his literal paw prints all over it. This explains why our house now often feels like an empty shell and not the same place it was before his passing. It also explains why my family’s experiment of staying in Copenhagen for a month to see what it felt like to live there was doomed from the beginning. Harold wasn’t there so it would never feel right. Harold is and was always our home. And I’m 100% sure this is the case for so many other families with beloved animals.
