| “I wish I was half the person my dog thinks I am.” |
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Coping with the Loss of a Pet
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to Dean Vickers' pet tips
I have heard it said time and again that you cannot
choose your family; you can only choose your friends.
Although I disagree with this as a general rule; I do
not believe that blood alone makes a family, the
sentiment is accurate. With that notion, however, where
does that leave pets? Those of us who have pets know the
important place they occupy in our lives and in our
hearts. In fact, over 80% of American pet owners
consider their pets to be members of their family; I
would fall into that statistic. Pets have the incredible
ability to know when to leave you alone and when,
despite your protests, you need to be loved. They know
instinctively when you need someone close to you who
does not judge you, but only wants to comfort you.
It is an incredible and wondrous journey when we commit
to the responsibility of bringing a pet into our lives.
We commit to, and provide a loving, safe and healthy
environment that we share with our family, friends and
pets. To me, as with many others, pets are more then
mere animals. They are companions who come into our
lives for various reasons and for various lengths of
time. To a degree, pets help fill a void in our ever
demanding life. They serve as a source of unconditional
love, in an often harsh world. They listen to our
stories and do not pass judgment, they accept us for who
we are, and overlook our flaws and imperfections. And,
they also forgive us without question. Regardless of my
hectic schedule, or what piece of legislation, which
disaster or animal fighting raid I am working on, as
soon as I open my front door, I am greeted by wagging
tails and barks of joy. They forgive the missed walks,
the missed belly scratches and hugs in the morning and
they forgive the missed play time; they are just excited
to see me, and it feels good to be home.
For the past eighteen years, I was fortunate to share my
life with a wonderful Pomeranian named Rowdy. Her
brother, Hootie, died the previous year at seventeen
years of age. Throughout the years, we went on hikes on
hikes, to the dog park or just on long walks in the
neighborhood. I took them camping and even vacationed
with them. I bought them holiday gifts and I donated in
their name. But every memory generated designates the
passing of time. Although grateful for the time we
shared, I felt helpless as I watched their vision fade
and the pace of their walk slow. I agonized as I watched
the bad days out number the good days. I could not
imagine another summer walk, autumn leaves or the
blanket of winter snow without them, but I could also
not imagine allowing them suffer in pain. Making the
decision to put them down was not easy. Those of you who
have made this decision know the pain. It doesn’t matter
that it was the right thing to do; it doesn’t make the
loss any less painful.
When a person you love dies, it is natural to feel
sorrow, express grief, and expect friends and family to
provide understanding and support. Unfortunately, the
same doesn’t always hold true when the loss you are
grieving is of a companion animal. Many people do not
respect the closeness and compassion we share with our
pets. They reduce the loss, in my case, of an eighteen
year relationship to the death of ‘just a pet.’
Nothing could be further from the truth. We love our
pets and they are, indeed, a part of our family. Given
the amount of emotional support and unconditional love
you have shared, it is not unusual to feel overwhelmed
by the intensity of sorrow when your pet dies. That you
already accept and appreciate the bond between humans
and animals indicates that you have already taken the
first step toward coping with pet loss: knowing that it
is okay to grieve for your pet.
The grief process is as individual as the person,
lasting for days for one person or years for another.
Understanding how you grieve and finding ways to cope
with your loss can bring you closer to the day when
memories bring smiles instead of tears. While grief is a
personal experience, you do not need to face it alone.
Many forms of support are available, including
bereavement counseling, pet loss support groups and hot
lines, books and videos. Here are a couple suggestions
the may help you cope:
- Acknowledge your grief and give yourself permission
to express it.
- Don’t hesitate to reach out to others who can lend a
sympathetic ear.
- Write about your feelings.
- Contact your local humane society or religious
affiliation to see of they offer a pet loss support
group.
- Explore the internet for pet loss support or chat
rooms.
- Prepare a memorial for your pet.
One of the most difficult dilemmas involves when the
appropriate time to get a new pet is. I would encourage
you to wait a few months, or longer, before bringing a
new pet into your life. It was a little different for
me, even after Rowdy’s death in November 2008; I still
had two wonderful dogs, J’Maul and Annikka. So I did not
walk into an empty home. I understand that it is
tempting to fill the void of one pet’s passing with
another pet. But, as you know, they are not
interchangeable. It is best to mourn the loss of your
old companion so that when you do bring a new pet home,
you are able to appreciate your new best friend as an
individual personality and not as a replacement. Follow
your instincts; you will know when it is right to bring
a new pet into your life.
Pets are unique; we allow them into some of the most
guarded parts of our private lives. They last longer
than many relationships and jobs. Because of this
loyalty, we allow them to reach deeper into our lives
than we allow any human. And although we know that all
too soon we will need to say good-bye, we willingly
share with them what we give to very few others:
unconditional love, faith, loyalty and respect. To this
end, we must protect their memories and learn from how
they have touched our lives. The best way I can honor
the lives of Hootie and Rowdy, as well as all the
thousands of dogs that die everyday in shelters waiting
to find a person who will love them, is to be the person
my dog thinks I am. Although I know I may fall short, I
also know I am a better person for having tried. This I
learned from my dogs.
| written by Dean Vickers |
| Dean Vickers is the Ohio State Director
for The Humane Society of the United States.
He can be reached at
dvickers@hsus.org or by calling
614-607-7139. |
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