When I was first asked to contribute to the HHA blog for National Pet Memorial Day, I wasn’t sure if I was emotionally ready. My 18-year-old cat, Fig (Newton), had crossed the rainbow bridge last October after having complications with chronic kidney disease. As someone who has always been drawn to dogs, Fig was my first cat, and she was fiercely attached to me.
When I mentioned to an acquaintance that I was going to write a post about pet loss for HHA, she responded, “What? Don’t do it. It will break your heart!” What I didn’t say then was that my heart had already been broken. Accepting this assignment months after her death felt like it might be therapeutic somehow, forcing me to examine my internal grief landscape, perhaps picking up each piece of that broken heart and looking at it with new eyes. So, the best way for me to write about pet loss is to honestly recount my own experience, hoping that it will resonate with you, dear reader.
From Diagnosis to End: Understanding the Journey
When a beloved pet is diagnosed with a terminal illness, it can feel like your world has been turned upside down. I remember not being surprised by Fig’s diagnosis of chronic kidney disease—she had been drinking more water—but I didn’t fully understand what it meant. When the vet explained the reality of the disease, I was overwhelmed and had a big cry. We all know that our pets’ lives are shorter than ours, but when faced with the reality of their mortality, it’s as if you’ve now arrived at the precipice of borrowed time. I found myself thinking, “So here we are, we’ve reached this point.” After that, I knew I needed to educate myself as much as possible and to prepare for what lay ahead—from the diagnosis to end-of-life care and beyond.
The journey from diagnosis to the end varies greatly depending on the pet's condition and the choices their caregivers make. It often starts with difficult conversations with veterinarians about treatment options, prognosis, and quality of life. In addition to Fig’s regular vet and holistic vet, I added a mobile hospice vet to the team. At the suggestion of our holistic vet, I joined several support groups on Facebook, which proved invaluable for finding foods and treatments outside of what our regular vet recommended. For instance, the Feline Chronic Kidney Disease Group on Facebook became a lifeline, providing resources that helped me navigate the ever-changing demands of the disease and significantly improved Fig’s quality of life.
Quality of Life vs. Quantity: The Tough Choices
One of the most challenging aspects of pet loss is balancing quality of life with the time left. While it’s natural to want to keep our pets with us as long as possible, it’s crucial to consider whether they are truly living or merely existing. A quality of life scale is a useful tool for gauging how your pet is doing, and many pet parents find it helpful to have regular check-ins to assess where their pet stands.
The Power of Choice: Respecting Their Wishes Regarding Treatment
A critical aspect of end-of-life care, whether for humans or pets, is the right to refuse treatment. While pets can’t vocalize their preferences, we as caregivers can interpret their signals. Initially, my cat screamed every time she was poked with a needle for subcutaneous fluids, even with the tiniest butterfly needle. After that, I stopped the treatment altogether, deciding to try again later. Eventually, she tolerated the fluids, as well as the various medications, low-phosphorus foods, supplements, and ultimately, syringe feeding. Knowing your pet well is essential to determining whether a treatment is worth pursuing depending on whether it causes a strain on your bond. I was advised that as a caregiver, the best you can do is offer all available treatments; it’s ultimately up to the patient whether they want to accept them or not.
The Complex Emotions of Anticipatory Grief
Anticipatory grief is a complex and often isolating experience. It felt like I was waiting for my pet to die, even though I didn’t want her to—I wanted her to be healthy. The reality for every pet parent is that we (usually) outlive our animals, and I was acutely aware of this. I often struggled with the thought that while we all know we’re going to die, knowing that it’s coming soon—but not exactly when—can produce immense anxiety.
I told one of our vets that I was doing my utmost to outrun this disease, and he gently reminded me, “You know you’re ultimately going to lose. You won’t win this.” I knew this, but I was willing to try my all, in order to stay ahead of it in the meantime. The way I can describe this emotional limbo is that it felt like breathing thick air while barely hanging on by a thread. Being the sole caregiver, questions or social plans from others caused me a lot of undue anxiety and stress. My cat needed to be hand-fed, and if I didn’t medicate her, she would vomit if she wasn’t fed every 5-6 hours. For nearly three years, I slept less than six hours every night. It was physically exhausting, and I started losing my hair. I often would say I am shaving years off of my life to add to hers, and she was worth it. She was worth all of it, and I did not take a moment for granted. Anticipatory grief is a constant, drawn-out reminder that life is full of unknowns, and living with this ambiguity feels very isolating, casting a grey cloud over all other areas of my life.
A Good Death
With the guidance of our vets, pets can either pass naturally (with medications to keep them comfortable) or be assisted with euthanasia. If it’s euthanasia, deciding when is the most difficult part. Some people say, “They will let you know when it’s time.” That comment made me scared — “What if I didn’t know?” As pet parents, we don’t want our pets to suffer, not even for a moment. This is why the quality-of-life scale is so helpful. Since I had planned Fig’s euthanasia and aftercare with our hospice vet in advance, I knew what I had to do if her score dipped too low. I wasn’t the type of pet parent who would wait until she was at almost 5-10%. When her score dropped to just under 30%, I knew it was time. Thankfully, she also showed me it was time with numerous signs, for which I was immensely grateful. I had planned a “best last day” for her, but nature had other plans. Her rapid decline was hard to watch, and I had to let go of my human idea of a “best last day.” I wanted to do right by her, to honour her in the best way possible because she deserved the utmost best. Our mobile hospice vet came, and I held her as her light peacefully and gently left her small, tired body.
Pet Loss: Why It Hurts So Much
Pets offer a unique form of companionship. They are a constant presence in our lives, sharing in our routines and life’s stages. They live alongside us through our milestones, challenges, triumphs, disappointments, and losses. They are our confidants, our support system, our closest allies, and our family. Unlike human relationships, which can be complicated by expectations and social norms, the relationship with a pet is based on pure unconditional love. This simplicity is what makes the loss of a pet so profound—there are no strings attached, only the deep bond that comes from a lifetime of shared experiences. Animals love us completely for all that we are; they are such beautiful and magical beings. As the saying goes, where there is deep grief, there was great love.
Honouring Their Memory: Rituals and Energy Clearing
Honouring your pet’s memory can be a healing process. Rituals, whether simple or elaborate, can provide closure and a way to celebrate the life of your pet. Energy clearing can also be beneficial in creating a peaceful transition for both the pet and the owner. I played a healing sound bath for cats while Fig was transitioning, and months after her death, I ritualized packing up and discarding her belongings. I was initially resistant to getting rid of her things, but ritualizing the process made it easier than I expected, and I did so gradually, considerately and carefully. This ritual process provided a gentle reminder that Fig’s life wasn’t just about the end, but a much longer and greater story.
Pet Legacy
Just like humans, pets can also have a legacy. For example, all of Fig’s remaining food, litter, cleaners, medicine, supplements, and medical supplies were donated to help other senior cats, shelters, our vets, and friends. Our hospice vet made a donation in her name to the University of Guelph’s Veterinary College’s OVC Pet Trust, and writing this article is also part of her legacy. The intention of legacy is honouring a person or an animal, and what better way to honour someone by giving back and helping others in need?
Disenfranchised Grief: When Others Don’t Understand
Society doesn’t always acknowledge the depth of pet loss. Some may dismiss the impact an animal can have on a person’s life. Months after Fig’s death, a family member (who is a doctor by the way) asked, “Have you gotten over your cat yet?” I explained that grief isn’t something you “get over” but something that needs to be integrated. I knew he didn’t mean any harm by his question, but the way he asked it showed that he didn’t understand pet loss.
Disenfranchised grief—the kind that isn’t openly supported or recognized—can make the grieving process even harder. Online pet loss groups are helpful in offering peer support as well as a refuge and safe space for those expressing their grief. These groups provide validation and understanding in a world that may not fully recognize the pain of pet loss.
The Role of a Pet Death Doula
Given all these emotional and practical challenges, I believe the role of a pet death doula is invaluable. They not only offer emotional support but also provide practical guidance through every step of the decision-making process. From pre-planning to the final farewell, a pet death doula ensures that pets are honoured in the way they deserve, offering comfort to pet parents during an incredibly difficult time. Looking back, I realize how much I could have benefited from the support of a pet death doula, though I wasn’t aware that such a role existed at the time. The experience of Fig, as a whole, was so incredibly profound, which perhaps is why I could hold her death with both sadness and happiness at the same time. The amount of grace I experienced through this journey was so huge that it really humbled me, and I knew I had only just barely scratched the surface of it. This gentle gift of grace ultimately inspired me to start my education as a death doula, so that I can be of service to others, to help navigate and walk alongside someone on this complex and tender experience of being human.
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