The Aftermath of Grief

Let's talk about what not to do when someone loses a beloved pet.

My 2-year-old dog Jett died suddenly last week. Although he had been with me just 11 months, his sudden loss was traumatic. I am still in a fog. Since then, several friends have reached out online with words of sympathy and condolences. And I appreciate that.

Two other friends -- both of them great friends and good people -- said things that were not helpful at best, and hurtful at worse. The first thing that shocked and hurt me came from the friend who came to my house minutes after I reported Jett's death. She was kind and attentive, gently covering his body with a blanket, leaving his head uncovered. When I replied that I felt as if I failed him , her response was "You did fail him." I had taken Jett to the veterinarian at the first sign something wasn't right. I followed directions for giving him his prescribed medication exactly. I returned to the veterinarian two days later, the day he died so suddenly. So how, exactly, did I fail him ? 

Later, she became convinced that Jett died of an overdose of one of his medications. If he overdosed, it was not because of anything I did. I followed the doctor's instructions exactly. I am having a necropsy performed on Jett, and I hope that will provide some answers. In the meantime, speculation or comments about how he died of an overdose are not helpful or welcome.

The second friend, who had been responsible for me rescuing Jett and for arranging for him to be driven to me halfway across the country, after being stunned that he had died, told me that Jett is still here, in my house, his home, and that only Jenny (my other dog) can see his presence. That was a helpful and welcome comment.

But then she started in on how my dogs must be picking up something from the boarding kennel where the dogs stay when I travel, telling me that all my dogs have died after being boarded. I told her that was not true. Only Bailey died shortly after boarding. Bailey was 11 years old. Layla died of cancer at age 12. Benny died at age 12 after struggling with an unknown health issue for a couple of years. Jenny has spent a lot more time in boarding than Jett did, and she is fine. Jett spent only 2 -3 weeks in boarding; his most recent stay was less than 2 days.

I told her I will wait for the results of the necropsy before making any claims.

She's a wonderful friend, but I don't need speculation about such things. I don't need suggestions about what might have happened, or about how the veterinarian who treated Jett (not our regular veterinarian, but at the same animal hospital) must not know what she is doing.

What people in my situation need are supportive words. They need to know that we need support and an acknowledgement of our loss and our grief. Everybody grieves differently. Grief lasts different lengths of time. Getting through grief takes as long as it takes.

Talking about the deceased animal won't make the person sad; they are already mourning the loss. Let them talk about their cat, dog or horse. Share funny stories about the animal.

Send an e-mail or a text message, or call, and ask if the person needs anything, or needs a ride somewhere. In my case, I don't feel up to a phone call unless it's a family member. I am tired of telling the story about what happened before and when Jett died. When previous dogs have died, I appreciated receiving a sympathy card or other acknowledgement of my loss. I don't know what happened, so please don't speculate or offer suggestions unless you are a veterinarian.

As an avid photographer, I have a lot of photos of Jett. I'm having prints made of my favorites, and I will make a wall calendar to hang in my office. He will not be forgotten. Ever.

I felt, and still feel, like I have been kicked in the stomach. There is guilt that I was unable to prevent Jett's death, although deep inside I feel as if I did everything I could to prevent it. I feel guilty that I didn't spend more time with him, or give him more attention (he was a very needy dog), or show him more patience.

But deep down inside, I know that I gave him a wonderful home, with a canine friend he loved, and that he knew, for the first time in his life, that he was loved.