How to Support Someone Who Has Lost a Pet

— The death of an animal companion can be every bit as devastating as other types of loss.

By Catherine Pearson

On “The Daily Show” this week, the host Jon Stewart broke down as he announced the death of his beloved, three-legged brindle pit bull, Dipper — a raw, touching segment that exemplified the deep grief many pet owners feel.

When an animal dies, owners lose companionship, affection and “just plain unconditional love — and we don’t find that in many places in our lives,” said Sherry Cormier, a psychologist and author of “Sweet Sorrow: Finding Enduring Wholeness After Loss and Grief.”

Our society tends to be “grief-phobic,” Dr. Cormier said, and there is a sense that the feelings prompted by the loss of a pet are relatively low in the hierarchy of suffering, or that it’s something that people should be able to cope with and move on from quickly. Dr. Cormier and other loss experts said that is not always true; and they shared ways to help a loved one through the loss of a pet.

Validate the owner’s loss.

Pet loss can lead to disenfranchised grief, meaning it is not validated or acknowledged by the wider world, said Michelle Crossley, an associate professor at Rhode Island College and vice president of the Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement. Therefore, “a lot of individuals end up grieving in isolation because of fear of rejection from other people,” she said, adding, “They worry that they won’t understand or they’ll minimize the loss.”

Keep it simple when expressing your sympathies, Dr. Cormier said. She suggested something like: “I know your animal was such an important part of your life and family. I can see how much he meant to you and how much you’re already missing him.”

Pet grief is often complicated by feelings of guilt if your friend or loved one opted to put an animal down to minimize suffering, Dr. Cormier said. She has done so with two golden retrievers, but noted the circumstances were quite different. One lived a long, happy life; the other had to be put down unexpectedly because of an aggressive brain tumor.

Resist the urge to say “I know how you feel,” she cautioned, even if your intention is simply to express empathy. “Everyone’s grief is unique,” she added.

Ask how you can help honor the pet.

Rituals are an important part of the grieving process, Dr. Crossley said, but they are sometimes overlooked when an animal dies. Perhaps your friend would welcome a memorial service, she suggested, or would like to make a memento box with photos and a few of his pet’s favorite toys.

If your friend or loved one is experiencing anticipatory grief — that is, she knows a pet is getting old or is likely to die soon — you might ask whether you can help plan any “bucket list” activities that she would like to do with her pet. You could consider giving your friend a meaningful gift. For instance, Dr. Crossley has seen people turn a pet’s water bowl into a planter. (She has a shelf where she keeps the ashes from the five dogs she has lost, along with their photos and paw prints, she noted.)

Keep in mind the physical component of your friend’s loss. “People report really intense physical longing, oftentimes comparing it to what they imagine the loss of a limb feels like,” said Judith Harbour, a veterinary social worker with the Schwarzman Animal Medical Center in New York City, who helps run pet loss support groups (which are another option for people experiencing acute grief after the passing of a pet). There is not an easy fix for that longing, she said, but sometimes an object to hold or cuddle with, like a blanket that belonged to the pet, can help.

Reminisce with your loved one.

The fact that people sometimes feel embarrassed to open up about how much they are missing their pet can contribute to feelings of loneliness and isolation, Dr. Cormier said. Simply encouraging them to share stories, photos or videos of their pet if they are up for it can help them feel less alone in their suffering, she said. And, if possible, listen more than you talk.

Be there for the long haul.

All of the experts noted the common misconception that pet-related grief doesn’t last as long as other types of grief. But it is cyclical, Dr. Cormier said, and she urged people to check in with friends and loved ones not just days or weeks after a loss, but for months or even years after the fact.

Do not ask whether your friend or loved one intends to get another pet, Ms. Harbour said. She lamented that almost everyone she had counseled after the loss of a pet had been asked that question. Mourning takes time.

“Don’t forget about them,” Ms. Harbour said of grieving pet lovers. “Check in and give them time to chat about their pet with you. That is really meaningful, because people often feel that the world is turning and time is passing and no one remembers their animal.”

Complete Article HERE!

Speaking of death

— Christians have an opportunity to eschew euphemisms and talk honestly about mortality.

By Rachel Mann

When my father died a couple of years ago, my family asked me to take the lead in organizing his funeral. I was happy to take this role: I am an experienced cleric used to working with funeral directors, and I have a strong understanding of the funeral process. What I’d never previously experienced—at least not from the point of view of a grieving person—is how readily those involved in the ministrations around a death speak in euphemisms. Perhaps it was a token of my grief, but I was annoyed by how many people couldn’t even say that my dad had died; most people, including the funeral director, said, repeatedly, that he’d “passed.”

Does it matter? At one level, no. The phrase “passed away” has been used to refer to death for 500 years. Still, it troubles me theologically. I fear that the prevalence of using passed as a way of speaking (or not speaking) of death indicates a society frightened by the finality of death, one that has opted for an overly spiritualized response to the last enemy.

A common refrain in my clergy circles is about how, on visits to plan funeral services with the bereaved, the only person prepared to use the “D” word is the priest herself. The bereaved will typically resort to any number of euphemisms to avoid it. This is entirely understandable. Shock is a natural reaction to death and, as creatures of language, we may be inclined to retreat to clichés that seem to soften the blow.

Indeed, at one level, euphemisms are entirely comprehensible as strategies to avoid the things we struggle with most. As Voltaire noted, “One great use of words is to hide our thoughts.” This applies to any difficult aspect of life, not simply death. Terms like downsizing and rationalization have been used for decades in business settings to avoid speaking directly about job cuts. In almost every area of life that really matters or troubles us—from sex through to war—there are forms of words that have been found to smooth out what’s difficult.

If death is the greatest human fear, it is hardly surprising that most of us will find ways of avoiding talking about it. The sheer number of ways humans have of avoiding the “D” word is both a testament to our creativity and an indication of how much we fear death.

Yet I think one of the imperatives on us as Christians is to be as honest as we can about death. Priests in particular are called to help people to pray and prepare them for death. Ironically, in an age when Christians are often parodied as delusional fantasists, we in fact have something powerful to offer as people who model realism and honesty about death. And one way we do that is by avoiding euphemisms at the point of death. If euphemisms are deployed in part to soften the nature of something shocking and appalling, ironically they serve to draw greater attention to that which they are meant to conceal. By being carefully and humanely honest about the singular finality of death, both priests and laypeople may be key agents in helping the bereaved to come to terms with the simple fact that, in this life at least, their loved ones are gone.

I am not suggesting that Christians should be crass. I trust we will always be sensitive to death’s ability to strip any of us of our certainties. But the quiet acknowledgment of the final nature of death may be significant both pastorally and for mission. In being clear that death has a shocking finality about it, Christians—as people who are committed to resurrection and new life—may be better placed to speak the good news of Christ. One thing we should not be afraid of in our faith tradition is the bleak reality that God incarnate, Jesus Christ, actually died and died horribly. He did not fall asleep or pass over or, to quote George Eliot, “join the choir invisible.” He died, in a vile and appalling way.

Resurrection is predicated on death. This is a powerful message in an age and culture in which technology and market economics have created the illusion that life and growth are almost endless. Growth is taken to be always good—and to be fair, growth is often a sign of life. Yet Jesus invites us to remember that unless a kernel of wheat falls and dies it remains a single seed. Jesus himself models a way of living abundantly that is grounded in the unavoidable reality of death.

Increasingly I read stories of billionaires seeking to cheat death altogether. In a culture where medical technologies have extended life among the wealthy to unprecedented levels, Christianity retains a potent voice on the inescapability of death. Even more powerfully, the figure at the heart of the Christian faith, Jesus Christ, signals that a fulfilled and rich life is not by its nature dependent on its length. At a time when religious faith is often parodied as absurd, childish, and fantastical, there is a profound opportunity to speak to the privilege of individuals and societies that seek to isolate themselves from the facts of human existence.

I know that there is nothing much I can do, as an individual, about the use of passing as a euphemism for death. At the same time, I can think of no greater vocation as a person of faith than to speak honestly about death, trusting in that even deeper reality of God’s resurrection.

Complete Article HERE!

Being There for a Loved One’s Final Breaths

— Can our presence at the last breaths of a loved one help us heal?

By Elaine Soloway

My mother’s last words to us were, “Drive carefully.” She had been admitted to a Chicago hospital a few days earlier after signs of a heart attack. It was Dec. 19, 1981, just shy of her 69th birthday on January 30.

As directed by Mom, with my spouse at the wheel, we drove silently home, grateful she was in the good hands of her internist and in one of Chicago’s most prestigious medical centers. But in the middle of that same night, we were awakened by a phone call. I lay silent as my spouse picked up the receiver. I listened, then watched as he pulled a tissue out of the nearby box and handed it to me. “Your Mom died,” he said.

I had no idea her condition was that grave. I pummeled my pillow, soon damp with my tears, shattered I had not been there for her final breaths.

They are likely thinking of my eventual last breaths and are hoping to avoid the trauma and frantic flights that would get them to me in time.

That long ago scenario has resurfaced because my adult children, who live on the East Coast, are asking me to move from Chicago to Boston where I’d be closer to them and my grandchildren. I am 85 and gratefully in good health. But they are likely thinking of my eventual last breaths and are hoping to avoid the trauma and frantic flights that would get them to me in time.

I understand my children’s worries. When my mom died, I dreaded my call to my brother, who lived in Kansas City, Missouri. “Why didn’t you let me know it was so serious?” he charged. “I could’ve flown there and seen her before she died.”

My apologies tumbled with my tears. “I didn’t know it was so serious,” I said. His grief, and my guilt, affected our close relationship. It was as if I had deliberately kept silent because he was her favorite.

Gratefully, we moved on to have a loving relationship. Frequent phone calls and occasional visits to each other’s town were salve. When he became seriously ill at 83, I traveled to see him. But when he died a few days later, I was not there for his final breaths.

‘Please Don’t Let Daddy Die’

Long before my mother’s death, I missed the last breaths of my father. He was 47, a heart attack fueled by diabetes, smoking three packs of Camels a day, and obesity. It was 1958 and I was a 20-year-old student at Roosevelt University when I was called to the school’s office to take a phone call from my uncle. “Get to the hospital right away,” he said.

Hospice workers report that some people who are dying wait to be alone for their final breaths.

I remember racing down several flights of marble stairs. “Please don’t let Daddy die,” I repeated as I sought a cab. But Dad was already gone when my uncle had called. My uncle met me outside of Dad’s room. And with his arm around my shaking body, said, “I’m so sorry; he’s gone.” I missed his final breaths, but I’m certain his labored words would have included, “I love you, Princess.”

My second husband, Tommy, was in hospice at our home after suffering several years of frontal temporal degeneration (FTD) and lung cancer. Neighbors helped me move our queen-sized bed to a different corner of our bedroom and assemble a hospital bed with guardrails. Although some had urged me to move Tommy from the hospital directly to a hospice center, I refused. I wanted him to know I was with him ’round the clock, not miles away where he might feel abandoned, and I bereft.

“I’ll be downstairs,” I told him one night. “And I’ll be up to kiss you goodnight before I go to sleep.” He smiled and squeezed my hand. I had barely settled on the couch when the hospice worker appeared at the top of the stairs. “He’s gone,” she said.

I learned this pause is not unusual. Hospice workers report that some people who are dying wait to be alone for their final breaths.

Now I have far outlived both parents and a husband. I doubt that fact has mollified my children’s concern about the 984 miles that stretch long and unknown between us. I am grateful for our strong relationship. I understand that their careers and own family obligations have skimmed our in-person meetings in Chicago to just a few times a year.

Looking for Peace

But what if I did heed their request and slice those miles to a more manageable five-minute car ride away? Then, if my fatal day arrived in their own backyard, they might be able to be part of a Jewish ritual that could bring all of us peace.

“So often, the experience of a loved one dying gets crowded out by the emotional needs and agendas of family members.”

In my search for end-of-life healing, I found “The Last Breath — Enriching End of-Life Moments” published in the medical journal JAMA by Dr. Martin F. Shapiro, who is a member of the Department of Medicine at Weill Cornell Medical College in New York.

He writes, “In Jewish tradition, the soul leaves the body with the dying breath, and it aids the soul on its journey if those present say a prayer, ‘The Shema” (“Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One”) as the individual breathes their last breath.”

In his remembrance of his own mother’s death, Shapiro explains, “I certainly did not believe that our words had provided Mom with a ticket to heaven … what we did discuss, and all agreed on that it was a wonderful experience … So often, the experience of a loved one dying gets crowded out by the emotional needs and agendas of family members. Saying this prayer structured our experience in a positive way.”

I realize that even if I did move to Boston, we could emulate the scene in Chicago when despite living in the same city as my parents, or just downstairs from my husband, I missed their last breaths. But at least they would not have to endure an airplane ride with their hearts mimicking a flight’s turbulence.

Should last breaths be enough of a reason for me to move 984 miles away from my current home?

I’ll leave that to my children.

Complete Article HERE!

Five of the best books about grief

— Moving memoirs and a magic-realist novella are among these stories that can help provide comfort and perspective

Michael Rosen, whose Sad Book deals with the death of his son.

By

When it comes to grief, a list of a thousand books wouldn’t be enough. This small selection is offered in the hope that it might contain something that provides solace – or at least that it might point the way to something that does.

Grief is the Thing With Feathers by Max Porter

The premise of this poetic novella – giant crow moves in with bereaved family after mother dies – sounds unlikely. But through this brilliant semi-allegory, Porter captures how loss can upend a family, seemingly stretching space and logic in surreal ways. Told through voices of two boys, their father, and a shapeshifting crow, this is a funny, frightening and loving experiment in magical thinking. As an adult who was bereaved as a child, I approached this tale with some trepidation – fearing it might cut too close. In fact, it provided a kind of fierce comfort – holding pain up to the light, and aslant.


Sad Book by Michael Rosen

Grief might not always be beyond words, but it sometimes needs little elaboration. This spare book, written about the sudden death of Rosen’s son, Eddie, illuminates how grief’s complexity can be rendered through seemingly simple words and images. “Who is sad?” , Rosen writes. “Sad is anyone. It comes along and finds you”. This is not strictly a children’s book, but a book that recognises how acutely grief can speak to the child within us. Quentin Blake’s grey wash illustrations create a space for sadness to breathe.


You Are Not Alone: A New Way to Grieve by Cariad Lloyd

Guests on Lloyd’s award-winning podcast Griefcast have included those who have experienced the death of a loved one by suicide, those who have lost siblings, children, parents and close friends. Lloyd’s brilliant book draws on excerpts from these podcast interviews, together with her own account of negotiating grief – her father died when she was 15. This is an outward-reaching guide, full of humility and humour. A reading list at the book’s close offers further resources and a “handrail through the grief fog”.


Time Lived, Without Its Flow by Denise Riley

Sixteen months after her son’s sudden death, Riley writes of being “superficially ‘fine’” but “with an unseen crater blown into my head”. Moving in diary-like intervals, Riley brings her poet’s skill and formal ice-cold grace to this tender, philosophical account of “an altered condition of life” – the “stopping of time” that occurs after the death of a loved one.


Late Fragments: Everything I Want to Tell You (About this Magnificent Life) by Kate Gross

Kate Gross was 34 when she was diagnosed with terminal bowel cancer. She died two years later, when her twin boys were just five years old. Gross wrote this luminously beautiful memoir-cum-commonplace book partly as way of articulating her own grief for the things she would not live to see and partly as a legacy and love letter to those she left behind. A clear-eyed and extraordinarily uplifting book.

Complete Article HERE!

Not all mourning happens after bereavement

– For some, grief can start years before the death of a loved one

By and

For many people, grief starts not at the point of death, but from the moment a loved one is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness.

Whether it’s the diagnosis of an advanced cancer or a non-malignant condition such as dementia, heart failure or Parkinson’s disease, the psychological and emotional process of grief can begin many months or even years before the person dies. This experience of mourning a future loss is known as anticipatory grief.

While not experienced by everyone, anticipatory grief is a common part of the grieving process and can include a range of conflicting, often difficult thoughts and emotions. For example, as well as feelings of loss, some people can experience guilt from wanting their loved one to be free of pain, or imagining what life will be like after they die.

Difficult to define, distressing to experience

Anticipatory grief has proved challenging to define. A systematic review of research studies on anticipatory grief identified over 30 different descriptions of pre-death grief. This lack of consensus has limited research progress, because there’s no shared understanding of how to identify anticipatory grief.

Therese Rando, a prominent theorist, has proposed that anticipatory grief can help prepare for death, contributing to a more positive grieving experience post-bereavement. Rando also suggests that pre-death mourning can aid with adjustment to the loss of a loved one and reduce the risk of “complicated grief”, a term that describes persistent and debilitating emotional distress.

But pre-death mourning doesn’t necessarily mean grief will be easier to work through once a loved one has died. Other research evidence shows that it’s possible to experience severe anticipatory grief yet remain unprepared for death.

Carers should seek support

Carers of people with life-limiting illnesses may notice distressing changes in the health of their loved ones. Witnessing close-up someone’s deterioration and decline in independence, memory or ability to perform routine daily tasks, such as personal care, is a painful experience.

It is essential, then, for carers to acknowledge difficult emotions and seek support from those around them – especially because caring for a loved one at the end of their life can be an isolating time.

Where possible, it can also be beneficial for carers to offer their loved one opportunities to reflect on significant life events, attend to unfinished business, and to discuss preferences for funeral arrangements. For some, this may involve supporting loved ones to reconnect with friends and family, helping them to put legal or financial affairs in order, talking about how the illness is affecting them, or making an advance care plan.

Talking is key

Living with altered family dynamics, multiple losses, transition and uncertainty can be distressing for all family members. It may be difficult to manage the emotional strain of knowing death is unavoidable, to make sense of the situation, and to talk about dying.

However, talking is key in preparing for an impending death. Organisations who offer specialist palliative care have information and trained professionals to help with difficult conversations, including talking to children about death and dying.

Navigating anticipatory grief can involve self-compassion for both the patient and carer. This includes acknowledging difficult emotions and treating oneself with kindness. Open communication with the person nearing the end of their life can foster emotional connection and help address their concerns, alongside support from the wider circle of family and friends.

Extending empathy and understanding to those nearing death – and those grieving their impending loss – will help contribute to a compassionate community that supports those experiencing death, dying and bereavement.

Complete Article HERE!

Is It Okay to ‘Schedule’ Your Grief?

— Grief is a unique and personal experience. Everyone copes with it differently, and that’s okay.

By Madhumita Sharma

In her book The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion writes, “grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it”.

We’re all struck by grief at some point, but knowing this doesn’t quite prepare us to deal with it when it does.

Grief is a natural and psychological response to loss, often involving a range of emotions such as sadness, anger, guilt, and confusion. It’s a deeply personal experience that can manifest differently for everyone, and affects each of us different ways.

It’s important to allow oneself to feel and process grief in their own way.

For instance, the idea of ‘scheduling your grief’ might sound like taking an extremely clinical approach to an emotional situation, but for some, it may be the most effective way to cope with their loss.

‘There Is No Blueprint to Grieving the Right Way’

Grief is often associated with the demise of a loved one, but it can also arise from other significant life changes or losses like significant life changes such as loss of a job or life-altering events.

It’s a complex process that involves emotional, physical, cognitive, and behavioural reactions.

Grief doesn’t follow a timetable. It is a non-linear journey with highs and lows, twists and turns. It can be triggered by different factors, such as anniversaries, memories, or unexpected situations, which can catch people off guard.

While grief doesn’t follow a strict schedule, establishing a routine or schedule can help in managing its intensity and impact on daily life.

This can include setting aside time for activities that facilitate healing and coping.

For instance, in the sixth episode of the US TV show, Successions fourth season, you may have caught Tom Wambsgans telling his wife Shiv, “You’re scheduling your grief,” after the demise of her father Logan Roy, when she could not sob in front of others and was crying separately.

‘Processing Grief While Carrying on With Everyday Life Can be Tricky’

Due to everyday hustle and competition, there are times when we don’t get to process our grief properly.

The question that then arises is, can we schedule our grief to a more convenient time when we can consciously engage with the process?

Scheduling grief isn’t the same as avoiding grief.

“In my therapy practice,I have seen people who try to suppress or delay their grief but it always tends to resurface in unexpected ways(and sometimes when they least expect it),” says Gurgaon-based Psychotherapist Shaurya Gahlawa.

Scheduling grief, on the other hand, involves allocating time each day to focus on grieving, allowing oneself to fully feel emotions without distractions.

So, if anything, this approach can help individuals manage their grief in a structured way while still allowing space for healing and growth.

There Are Some Pitfalls to Scheduling Grief

The scheduling of grief may appear counterintuitive and possibly detrimental. It might even seem like attempting to restrict grief to specific time frames disregards the spontaneous and unpredictable nature of the grieving process.

Moreover, trying to schedule grief can establish unrealistic expectations and pressure on individuals who are already having a hard time grieving.

It might unintentionally convey the message that there is a ‘correct’ or ‘acceptable’ timeline for grieving, which can result in feelings of guilt, shame, or inadequacy if one does not adhere to it.

This can be particularly harmful in a society that frequently expects people to ‘move on’ or ‘get over’ their grief within a certain timeframe.

“Attempting to schedule grief can sometimes be counterproductive and may lead to emotional distress because grief follows its own timeline and varies greatly from person to person. Some people may experience intense emotions immediately following a loss, while others may have delayed or prolonged processes,” says Gahlawa.

While it may seem structured, it can be a helpful strategy for some individuals who find it challenging to manage their emotions throughout the day.

How to Schedule Your Grief Effectively

By setting aside designated times to focus on grief, individuals can create a balance between addressing their emotions and engaging in daily activities.

However, it’s a tricky line to tow, so here are some things to keep in mind while scheduling your grief.

  • Cut yourself some slack

Flexibility and self-compassion are key, as everyone’s grieving process is unique. Attempting to rigidly schedule grief can sometimes suppress or delay the natural grieving process.

So, according to Gahlawa, its essential to recognise that grief may require flexibility and adaptation based on one’s emotional needs.

It’s important to be patient and compassionate with oneself during this process, as it can take time and may involve ups and downs.

  • Make room for unexpected emotions

While some people may find it helpful to set aside specific times to process their feelings of grief, it’s important to acknowledge that emotions can arise unexpectedly and may require attention at any moment.

  • Scheduling may not be for you

According to Mumbai based psychologist Sophie D’Souza, Scheduling may not be the best way to process grief for everyone.

“Rather than scheduling grief, for some people, it may be more beneficial to make room for it in our lives. This means allowing ourselves to feel and express our emotions as they occur, without any judgment or the pressure to conform to a predetermined timeline.”

“This includes practicing self-compassion and being patient with ourselves as we navigate the complexities of loss,” she adds.

  • Seek professional help

Although everyone experiences and processes grief differently, it can help to do it under the guidance of a professional.

“Our responsibility as mental health professionals is to provide individuals with a secure and unbiased environment where they can explore their feelings, deal with their loss, and develop coping mechanisms during their time of bereavement.”
— Sophie D’Souza, Psychologist

“We help our clients understand that grief is a natural reaction to loss and that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. Rather than trying to manage or schedule grief, I encourage my clients to embrace their emotions.” She adds.

Apart from seeking professional help, don’t be hesitant to lean on loved ones for support.

Complete Article HERE!

My pets have stolen my heart again and again.

— I know I’m not alone.

Our relationships with animals can be as strong as those we have with humans, and far less complicated

By Marlene Cimons

The most searing memory of my childhood was the day my mother finally agreed to get us a puppy, only to change her mind several hours later. She decided it would be too much work. Growing up, all I ever wanted was a dog or a cat. All I ever got was a turtle, countless goldfish and two parakeets.

Not surprisingly, the first thing I did after leaving home was get a kitten, a half-Siamese who lived to nearly 20, then a Burmese who made it to 17. When my kids were old enough — 10 and 13 — we got a chocolate lab puppy, as much for me as for them. The kids grew up and left, but Hershey stayed. She was my first dog and — with no husband or partner — my best friend.

The years brought a half-dozen more cats and two more dogs, Watson, a black lab then age 6 months, and Raylan, a yellow shepherd mix, who, at 4 years old, arrived with a BB pellet in his leg and a clear case of post-traumatic stress. With patience and love, Ray morphed from a fearful defensive stray into a devoted and trusting companion.

Today I live with Watson, now 10, the king of fetch, a mama’s boy who follows me everywhere; Chloe, 15, a long-haired part-Maine Coon cat, who loves dogs more than other cats; and Zachy, 10, a gray and black tabby obsessed with food — and my socks. All are rescues.

It was predictable after my pet-deprived youth that I would have animals. What surprised me was the intensity of my feelings for them, and how much my relationship with them would come to define my life.

I was paralyzed with grief and guilt (did I do the right thing?) when Hershey, at 13, was diagnosed with an advanced untreatable cancer and I had to let her go. Similarly, I fell apart after Raylan, then 12, and two of the cats, Max, almost 18, and Leo, 15, also developed cancer, and — in a recent short time span — were gone. Today I feel intermittent anxiety about Watson, Chloe and Zachy, the scientific term being anticipatory grief.

Social media is rife with personal stories of the animal/human bond, especially how difficult it can be to say goodbye. Our relationships with our pets often are as strong as and sometimes stronger than, those we have with our humans, and far less complicated. This may explain our deep connection with them.

“Often, pets are our first or even only chosen family when we leave childhood homes, when we live alone, when our children leave, when we go through breakups,” says Marjie Alonso, former executive director of the International Association of Animal Behavior Consultants and the IAABC Foundation. “Our pets provide a steady, stable presence in a way humans do not.”

Researchers sometimes use attachment theory to describe this bonded relationship between humans and their pets, which holds that humans are born with an innate need to bond with a caregiver, usually their mother. “For many pet owners, the attachment relationships we develop are as emotionally close and similar in intensity as a human attachment,” says Michael Meehan, a senior lecturer in veterinary science at Massey University in New Zealand. “Our pets also display the same attachment behavior toward us.”

Sandra McCune, visiting professor in human-animal interaction in the schools of psychology and life sciences at the University of Lincoln in England, agrees. “It may be that companion animals have hijacked our innate desire to form attachments,” she says. “They depend on us like a child that never grows up.”

My companion animals make up the rhythm of my days — and nights. It’s not just the walk/runs with Watson, or his endless preoccupation with tennis balls, or ensuring Chloe gets her medicines on time, and that Zachy has the special food he needs to prevent urinary blockages.

It’s also those exquisitely sweet moments: Watson, warm against my back while I sleep, and Chloe, who starts on my stomach, then moves into the crook of my arm when I shift. Zachy, still dog-wary, stays downstairs overnight, but waits at the bottom of the steps and demands breakfast as soon as he hears us stir.

“Pets tend to be always the same, even on good and bad days, reliably who they are and reliably ours in our relationship with them,” Alonso says. “Their own needs and wants are fixed around food, enrichment and care, focusing on us, rather than ‘Is my promotion going to come through?’ ‘You forgot our anniversary,’ or, ‘What do you want for dinner?’”

Emily Bray, assistant professor of human-animal interaction in the University of Arizona College of Veterinary Medicine, agrees. “When they are tuned into us, you have their full attention. They are not texting on their phones,” she says.

My children have their own lives now — and their own cats — and make their own decisions. But pets need us to make choices for them, even when it isn’t easy. “Pet owners have to decide when the time comes for euthanasia, which often complicates grief and doesn’t often exist in relation to human death,” says Meehan, also a pet grief counselor. “Unlike human death, there are no traditional rituals or protocols in place to memorialize a pet.”

McCune calls anticipatory grief a normal response to the prospect of loss. “It’s part of the love you have for them,” she says. “Enjoy them while you have them, make and keep memories for when they go. There are just some very special dogs and cats, the ones that steal your heart, that you constantly involve in your life, and that you change your life for.”

That has been true for me and, as it turned out, for my parents, too. Years after my brothers and I moved out, my sister-in-law gifted my parents, then in their 70s, with their first dog, a cocker spaniel puppy.

Too much work? Maybe. But they were too smitten to care.

Complete Article HERE!