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BabyShrink’s Feelings About Pet Loss
Rusty-Puppy was a sweet, happy dog who spent her life at Evans World Headquarters. She would rest her warm head on your knee as you sat at the table, peering up at you with those trusting brown eyes. She joyfully bounded around the yard with the kids. She was everything you could ever hope for in a family dog.
But Rusty got old and sick. There were sparks of her old self, but her quality of life was miserable. Sharon and Danny agonized over when to end Rusty’s suffering. They decided that yesterday was the day.
I spoke to Sharon yesterday after their appointment at the vet. “I bawled the whole time,” she said. “She kept losing weight. She couldn’t make it outside anymore on her own. Then I would see a little improvement. Was this the right time?”
Sharon also talked about the finality of death — even with pets. “Somehow we take it for granted, if it’s an animal. But it’s just as final as if she was a person.”
In the background, I could hear kids yelling and laughing. Sharon had taken the kids to their first soccer practice of the season. “We haven’t told them yet. We told them it was coming; we tried to prepare them as best we could. But I couldn’t imagine taking them home to tell them about Rusty, then having to sit there with them as they missed practice. Somehow, life has to go on. I think it may be harder on me than it will be on them.”
Last night, I dreamt about Morey. Morey was a skinny red tabby; my first pet. After living through six cross-country moves in eight years, Morey gave me a sense of stability. She would sit in my lap, and I had a friend. I wasn’t the “new kid in town” to Morey.
My Dad took her to get “fixed” one day. Late in the afternoon, we still hadn’t heard back from the vet. I made him call. I was afraid, but I wasn’t sure why. When my Dad hung up the phone, he threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “She died,” he said. Then he went for a jog. I sat there and cried, trying to “pet” Morey’s fur that was still stuck on my t-shirt.
I hate to tell those kinds of stories about my Dad, first of all because he died several years ago, and second, because he was one of the nicest guys you could ever meet. But he was a doctor’s doctor. His sensitivity to the emotional life of his kids left a lot to be desired.
Apparently, Morey had a reaction to the anesthesia. (Those of you who read my last post are putting two and two together right about now. Aha. Maybe THAT’S why she’s doubly worried about the anesthesia.)
We quickly got two new cats, but they got left in Texas after we moved back to Hawaii. Then the cat I had my whole adult life died when I was finally pregnant with our first child (which was immediately after my Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer).
So, my reaction to pet loss is a little more complicated and neurotic, as a result. I wanted to have some pithy comments and suggestions to give Sharon yesterday. But the pit I felt in my stomach distracted me from rational thought.
Sharon and I talked about whether to introduce a new pet into the family, and when. Are there any ideal ages, in terms of the kids? And of course the burden of caring for an animal falls on the adults in the family. Do we really want that extra job, when we’re running around after little kids? I told Sharon, “I can’t do it again. It’s too hard.” But I understand that pets provide so much love to a family. I understand that important lessons about the cycle of life and death are beautifully demonstrated to children by owning and caring for pets.
So I’m sitting here, trying to put together some guidelines for how to cope with pet loss. And I can’t come up with much, other than the fact that each kid is so different, and each developmental age is so different, that you have to individualize your reaction, based on those factors. Obviously, DON’T throw up your hands and go out for a jog. Let the kids set the pace, in terms of questions about the pet, and death in general. Lean on your family’s spiritual tradition to help inform your answers about “what happens after death”. When considering adding a new pet to the family, don’t automatically jump in to that responsibility. You want to send the message to your kids that, although losing an animal is not the same as losing a person, we still must honor the place the pet held in our family, and that every life is unique.
In my last post, you had some incredible advice and suggestions. Now let me ask you: When IS the right time to add a new pet to the family, following the loss of a beloved animal?
The answer is that there is no stock answer. I think every family will find out on its own when it is time. Sometimes you start out thinking that you will never want another pet, sometimes you know right away that you can’t live without one. The loss has to sit for a while, and percolate through your life until you know the answer. We lost three barn cats in as many years when we moved to our latest home. We have one left. After having to euthanize one and having another just disappear, I voted against purposely getting another. It’s just too sad to bond with them and know that their lives are not as easy as house cats (I am so totally allergic that one little claw prick raises a dime size welt in 30 seconds).
The answer will come when it is supposed to. In the meantime, have lots of tissue ready.
I am dreading the day we have a pet who dies. So far we haven’t moved beyond fish. One thing I know for sure is that when it happens we will do the whole funeral ceremony thing and talk about it openly as a family.
When I was 9 my beloved cat was run over, and my father said “I am burying him in a trash bag. Do you want to see?”
It wasn’t meant in a nasty way, I think he just felt awkward. But I never forgave him. And then our other cat tried to dig up the grave and it was all a big mess and I was devastated.
My mother handled getting a new pet perfectly (for us). A few months later she was reading the paper and casually mentioned that there were kittens being given away. And knowing her, if any of us had had an objection she would have respected that. As it turns out, we didn’t.
Oh, this one touches me so close to home. I think people are either “animal” people or “it’s just an animal” people. I, for one, do not allow the phrase “it’s just an animal” to be spoken in my presence because I think it’s rude and demeaning.
However, your comment that each child will need a different approach is very true. And I think it depends on their age. In general, I would be very mindful that what you say about an animal’s death will probably stick in the child’s mind as relating to ANYONE’S death, so don’t say you are going to flush the goldfish down the toilet if you don’t want your kid to think that’s what will happen when grandma dies too! Also, there are a lot of good books out there that deal with pet death and explaining it.
For me, it’s a spiritual thing, not a religious one, but it depends on your viewpoint in that regard. I will say the Rainbow Bridge is a wonderful, overall explanation and heartfelt story to help us all feel like our pets are not gone, just waiting for us elsewhere (you can look it up online!)
P.S. Another thing that has comforted me when faced with losing a pet is the knowledge that animals live for NOW only. They don’t fear the future or death, and they accept what happens to them as part of life. And, most importantly, they love completely unconditionally, and forgive us for our human faults! As long as you have loved them completely, they will have been truly happy.
I agree with the other posters- let the kids set the pace. If they bring up getting a new pet, then go with that. If they don’t, and you’re wanting a new one, let it slide a few weeks and then approach them about it. Get them involved in the selection process and make it a family event.
Introducing a new pet right away without having the kids involved might stunt their grieving process. When I was a kid, my dog was sent away to a “farm” when we moved to an apartment that wouldn’t allow dogs. My mom got us a cat right away, but I never got over losing my dog.
As with any loss, expect the grief and sadness to pop up periodically and without warning, and then respect that. I nearly cried reading this because stories of pet loss bring up all my memories of losing pets in my life, including when I had to put my horse down. When my grief over Gus-gus springs up (and it still does, even 5 years later), my husband doesn’t always understand. While I can shake off any inadvertently cold response from him, I’m not sure a child could. Sure it’s been a long time, but crikey – I loved that animal!
I guess what I’m trying to say is that when we say to let the kid set the pace, part of that pace might include an occasional “two steps back” and that’s okay. Let them take those two steps back, and when they’re ready, they’ll step forward again. When we don’t honor the grief, we bury it instead of dealing with it, and that’s not healthy – for adults or children.
I read this on Tuedsay and my eyes teared up because I know we will soon have to make a decision about our 15yo dog who’s not doing so well. Then last night when I got home, I found our 14yo cat lying on the floor in critical shape. I threw my 2yo inthe car rushed him to the Animal Emergency Clinic. He was in acute kidney failure (probably caused by tumors that they saw on an xray). We made the decision to put put him to sleep to save him a day or two of suffering.
My daughter is only 2 so I know she doesnt have a concept of death and luckily is still self-centered enough that she won’t really notice one of our pets is gone. But she is very stressed out over my grief – seeing me cry makes her cry. I’m telling her it’s okay, that Mommy’s just sad, but everything is fine etc… Any advice?