Coping With The Loss of A Pet

I couldn't look at them the day after Heather died. It was the worst feeling in the world. Mr. K, Nibbles and Pudley needed me but I couldn't even bring myself to turn on my other side in bed, never mind go downstairs to walk and feed them. I felt defeated. I had prepared for sadness and ugly cries but this reaction I was not expecting. How was I unable to even look at my dogs? Fortunately, I had reinforcements to take care of the pups that day while I grieved...if that's what you want to call it.

While lying in bed, it dawned on me. I really hadn't told people yet. How was I supposed to do that now? I started with family. My grandmother, who has experienced greater loss than any other person in my life, had me laughing a bit and feeling inspired to at least try to tackle the day by the end of our call. She reminded me that Mr. K, Nibbles and Pudley needed me and that I had given Heather a really good life. Both things I knew but couldn't channel to pick myself up that morning. 

I managed to get through the grocery store and other mundane errands before returning home. I opened the refrigerator and saw the bowl I kept Heather's home cooked meals in and nearly lost it. I whisked around, slamming the refrigerator door behind me. I couldn't handle seeing that. How quickly I had forgotten it was there. And how surprising to find something as simple as food could be such a jarring emotional trigger. No one said grieving the loss of a pet would be easy but I think I had hoped the wonderful memories and love in my heart would prevent things from being this hard.

Sometime that afternoon or early evening, I got down on the floor and opened my arms to let my three Scotties come hug me. They all came smiling - Pudley acting silly and jumping around, Nibbles burrowing her head in my lap and Mr. K with his tail wagging but those soulful eyes showed me he was worried about me. I assured him everything was okay and took up a game of squeaky tennis ball and suddenly, his world was so much better than it was before. I had to pull it together for him.

With each day that passes, things get easier. Nights are the worst, though. It is as if your days return to normal but all that grief that was pushed aside rushes back to the surface once you've settled in for the night. It took me weeks to learn how to quiet my thoughts so I could rest. People always tell me look for signs of her. That she'll let me know she's in a better place and doing okay. Sadly, I have not seen any such sign. Not even after her remains came home. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough. Instead, I remind myself that she is not in pain. It helps. It doesn't make it all go away but it helps.

Losing Heather was difficult and it didn't matter how many articles I read about dealing with the loss of a pet. I had to go through it and cope with it on my own and in my own way. (And I still am.) It is the best way to heal, in my opinion. I didn't feel peace until I decided to do something to honor Heather and began brainstorming ways to champion the rescue cause on her behalf. Knowing she'll live on in the hearts of many and that her memory will be preserved brings a tremendous amount of comfort. And I know she's looking on with that cute, crooked smile from wherever she is today.