Vet Wisdom® Café

We Are the Lucky Ones

Last week, I was able to share a photo with you from a pet parent who had received a ClayPaws® print when their cat, Lucky, was euthanized. He shared Lucky's story with me as well. 

Lucky had shown up at their camp one weekend. She seemed to have been dropped off on the roadside and wandered through the woods. She was very skinny and had was losing the control of her back legs. He and his wife took her in and immediately took her to the vet hospital in their area. She was about 2 months old at that point. They called her Lucky because she found her family at the camp and found a forever home with them. 

I got to thinking after hearing Lucky's story. I think that we, as pet parents, are the lucky ones. Having a Lucky come into their lives wasn't something this family was looking for, but they had 9+ years with her and she brought them much pleasure and laughter over the years. So, yes, Lucky was lucky, but so were her pet parents! (And I know they agree.) 

I have had many kitties in my life. Several of them I helped out of bad situations (Bear, Zen, Melvin, and even our current boys, Ben and Henry, and our little Miss Girl.) So, are they lucky to have me? Yep. But, I feel more lucky to have had them!)

Melvin wasn't really my cat, but the short time he was in my life was great! (I might have one photo of him, but I can't find it to share with you.) He was a fighter, a big orange Tom-cat who decided that I was good people. He came to my house and he ate with my Bear cat. (He didn't fight with Bear, amazingly.) He wouldn't let anyone touch him to begin with, but I was patient with him. I had mono during the time that Melvin was coming around. I was stuck at home for over 2 months. I would sit outside on my little front stoop and talk to Melvin. He eventually let me pet him. 

I don't know what happened to Melvin. He just stopped coming around one day. I hold out hope that he found a new home, but... who knows? I missed seeing the crazy cat. I called him Melvin after Jack Nicholson's character in the movie As Good As It Gets. He didn't like people to touch him either. 

So, was Melvin lucky to have found me? Yes, certainly, but I was more lucky to have the time with him. It was a short period of time - maybe a year. He was a scrapper - often had torn up ears and battle scars. But he always had a little time to hang out with me. I felt needed when Melvin came around. I was lucky to have that orange cat in my life. 

Time with pets is fleeting. I know that nine years with Lucky certainly wasn't long enough for her family. My one year or so with Melvin wasn't enough, but I count myself lucky to have had the time. Even though losing a pet, however that happens, to old age, euthanasia, or disappearance is one of the hardest things I've faced, I'll do it all over again, and again, and again. 

What pet have you been lucky to know? 

--Tammy

Keepsakes for Parents - Pet and Human?

I'm curious.

I know many of you who read this blog have received a ClayPaws® print from your pet when your pet died. And, I know how much this print means to you.

But, if you had to face the loss of a child, or any human family member, would you also be comforted by a clay handprint if the hospital made one for you? This is a question we are pondering at World by the Tail because some doctors and nurses who received ClayPaws® prints of their pets are asking us if we can provide them for people, too.

We think it could be a wonderful way to help grieving families. Do you?

I'm interested in hearing your opinions about his practice. What might be the pros and cons of receiving a handprint of your loved one? If you're a medical or mental health professional, would you take the time and be willing to become emotionally involved enough with patients to take this extra step in providing care?

Please lend me your insights. I trust your opinions!

Leave a comment and let's see where this idea might go!

--Laurel

Regret #4: Was My Face Red!?!!

Many years ago, a typical day at the Colorado State University Veterinary Teaching Hospital found me assisting Cindy, a senior vet student who had a big problem.

While Cindy was out of town taking her California Boards, her wonderful Bernese Mountain dog, Barney, died.

It wasn't totally unexpected.  Barney had been declining for some time and had had surgery a few days before.  He wasn't recovering well, so she'd said her just-in-case good-byes and had me, along with many of her vet school friends, checking on him.  Still, when he died, it threw those of us at the hospital into crisis mode.

The doctor had to deliver the bad news via telephone, never preferable to face-to-face.  Cindy's friends had to make arrangements to remove Barney's body from CCU and store it somewhere until my student returned home.  As the grief counselor on clinics that day, it was my job to deal with Cindy's guilt and regret.  And that wasn't easy.

Cindy was a bubbly, brunette who was a leader in her class when it came to advocating for the human-animal bond and animal welfare issues.  She was the last person who would have intentionally abandoned her dog when he needed her, but she really didn't have a choice about going to California.  If you want to practice medicine in a certain state, you have to pass the Boards given by that state. The Boards are given on a certain date and, if you can't make it, you must wait a long time before you can take them again.  Since Cindy had been in vet school for 4 years and now needed and wanted to make a living in her home state, she had to go.  She didn't want to leave her dog, but she hoped that he would be able to hang on until she returned.

Sometimes our choices are really, really hard and we must make them from the criteria of the "greater good."  And, we must trust that, no matter what happens as a result of that choice, there is understanding and acceptance in the hearts and minds of those involved.  We talked a lot that day about Barney's unconditional love for her and how dogs communicate more telepathically and mysteriously than humans do.  "I know that, even though I wasn't physically there with him when he died, he could feel me with him," Cindy said.  "I haven't stopped thinking about him since I arrived in California and I know he could sense my thoughts and love for him."

I totally agreed! 

While Cindy was struggling with her grief and trying to stay focused on her tests, her brother Richard contacted me and said he and a friend would be driving to Fort Collins to pick up Barney's body.  I agreed to place Barney's body in a casket so they would be able to transport him.  We agreed to meet at the hospital mid-afternoon.

Around 3:00, I'd had no word from Cindy's brother, so I strolled through the hospital waiting room to see if he'd arrived.  I spotted two young men leaning against the appointment desk, talking to one of the receptionists.  Thinking these men were Cindy's brother and his friend, I hurried up behind them and tapped the dark haired one on the shoulder.

"Are you, by any chance, rich?" I asked.

There was a short, awkward pause while they looked at me with confused expressions on their faces.  Finally, the one I'd questioned said, "Isn't that sort of a personal question?"

Sooooooo, I realized that these guys weren't related to Cindy at all and I had just approached a complete stranger, asking him if he had Big Money!

Needless to say, I babbled and blushed my way through an explanation that included many awkward references to a guy named Richard, a sweet dog who had just died and the sad events of the day.

The senior student who was with me on clinics that day thought the whole exchange was hilarious! And my embarrassment did serve a purpose as his recounting of the episode helped lighten the load for all of us during rounds at the end of that long, emotionally-draining day.

And the real Richard did appear and took Barney's body with him.  When I finally met him, I realized I could have avoided the whole upsetting scene if I had simply asked him what he looked like or what he would be wearing.

So, my regret #4 is that I regret not doing that. 

Yet, without my mistake, the day might have been overwhelmingly sad for most of us. So, now I remember "rich" Richard and know that, even in the midst of sadness and grief, a little humor can be healing. (photo from bigstockphotos.com)

--Laurel

Beauty and Bread

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.   --John Muir

Laurel writes a lot about grief. But, today, I'm going to write about some lessons I'm learning about grief.

Grief comes in many forms - loss of a close person in your life, loss of a pet, and other losses like jobs, moves, etc. We have all experienced grief in our lives, and no grief can be discounted as "less". And we each experience loss and grief in very different ways, unique to each of us.

I am learning though, that there are ways that you can help yourself through grief, no matter what you are grieving - be it a family member, beloved pet, or a change in your life. Though I've known about grief techniques for a long time, I'm not very good at taking care of myself and facing my own grief.

I am realizing that for me, it is nature and being surrounded by natural beauty is what I need. My husband and I spent a day in Muir Woods recently. We arrived there very early - before most people did. It was very nearly silent, it was raining, and we walked a long way back into the woods. The rain falling through the trees was the BEST sound. It was meditative to me. We both walked very quietly, not talking very much, and just sort of drinking in the beauty. The ancient giant trees surrounding us seemed to be "speaking" in the silence. I realized that I had been missing this, and I allowed my emotions to surface while in that space.

I've shared what some of my griefs are - my sister's death last summer, losing our little Miss Girl a couple years prior to that, and most recently, the grief of leaving Oregon and moving to a place that we don't love like we did Oregon. I'm learning to let myself grieve. In the past, I think I've really stuffed my grief instead of letting it out or dealing with it in some way.

Spending time in Yosemite this weekend, and in Muir Woods a couple weeks ago has helped. I allowed myself to feel my emotions when we were in those places of beauty.

The quote from John Muir at the beginning really expresses my feelings. Nature is healing, and I can't wait for our next trip to a gorgeous place near us.

How has nature helped you with grief or finding a meditative place for yourself? Where is your favorite spot in nature? (Pictured is Fern Spring, one of my favorite spots in Yosemite)

--Tammy

Helpful Condolence Notes, Part 2

Last week, I wrote about the stories and memories that personalize condolence notes and make them more effective. For more information about expressions of condolence, read on...

Tips for the Details of Condolence Cards and Notes

• establish a uniform policy for sending condolence notes.  In other words, if you send a note to one friend, client, or family member, send one to everyone.  It's tempting to only send to the people you think need extra support, but sometimes the people who don't seem to need help actually appreciate your support more than others. They are often the ones who find it difficult to reach out and ask for others' help.
• include all members of the family and address each member by name.
• if you're writing about a pet, spell the pet's name correctly and make references to the correct gender.
• compose the note in your own handwriting or at least use a hand-written signature.
• if appropriate, include information about grief education and/or referrals to grief support counselors or programs. (Pictured is Card S31, Multi-Pets. Find it here.)

Tips for Condolences by Phone

If you're an animal care professional or simply a concerned friend, you may want to make a follow-up telephone call after you've sent a written note.  Phone calls can be especially appreciated if the pet parent:

• was highly attached to the pet and lives alone, without much emotional support.
• is a client and has requested a call to discuss his or her concerns.
• is someone you've known a long time and is important to you.

 Even if you're not trained in grief counseling, there are ways you can make these calls effective AND protect your own time and emotional boundaries, as well.  Here are some tips to keep in mind:

• state up front how much time you have to give them  ("Hi, Mary.  I have twenty minutes before I need to leave for an appointment and I wanted to call you to see how you are doing since Waldo died..." ) Grievers can lose all sense of time and repeat themselves often when their emotions are triggered.  When you feel you need to end the call, refer back to your time constraint and offer to check in with them again at a later time.  If you commit to another call, be sure you follow through!
• listen respectfully (try not to interrupt or disagree) and reassure them about their choices and decisions.
• offer names and contact information for grief support and/or referrals to grief counselors who are known to you and with whom you have worked.

If you're a veterinary professional and would like a hand-out about condolences to use for staff training, click here.  To see World by the Tail's collection of client condolence cards, click here.

Thank you for taking the time and making the effort to reach out to those who need support.  Your words will mean more than you may ever know.  

What Makes a Condolence Note Helpful?

My friend's voice on the other end of the phone told me something was terribly wrong.  As we talked, I learned her 3-year-old cat had died suddenly in an accident. Of course, we talked (I mostly listened) but I still wanted to offer her more after our conversation ended.

Since World by the Tail now has an entire line of condolence cards to choose from, I selected one that fit for her (S47) and thought about what I wanted to say to her.

Ten minutes later, I was still thinking...

It's hard to know what to write in a condolence card.  In general, you want to avoid the following:

• advice-giving ("The best thing to do is get yourself another cat soon...")
• cliches or your own religious beliefs ("Heaven needed another angel")
• too much focus on yourself ("I know just how you feel because I went through the same thing....")

Instead, experts say the most helpful condolence notes tell our stories and relate our personal memories about the pet (or person) who has died. That's what my friend Jean (our own Two Old Horses and Me blogger!) did when my dog Sam died a few years ago. Here, with a bit of editing due to space restrictions, are a few examples of the sentiments Jean wrote:

"Few people would be able to say as I do, that a dog who lived with someone else was her best friend.  Because of Sam, I am lucky enough to be in that unique group.  From the get-go, Sam and I had a connection...thank you for letting me love Sam." 

"He was more powerful than any anti-depressant or glass of red wine.  He was even better for me than a sunny day in the garden.  My spirits always lifted when I saw Sammy [because] he reveled in whatever the day brought to him.  That's the gift I want to hold on to.  The thing Sam taught best was how to be gloriously in the moment of life."

Jean's words are:

•  personal.  There is no doubt that Jean is referring to my dog Sam.  And she makes me feel that Sam was the most amazing, special dog in the whole world. 
• emotional.  The imagery and memories she includes evoke warm emotions and memories.  There are no cliches or generalizations, which tend to take people out of their hearts and into their heads, shutting down feelings and emotions.
• thoughtful.  I can tell Jean took time to think about what she wanted to say to me.  This isn't a standard note she sends to anyone who loses a pet.  This was written for me.

You're probably not a professional writer...but consider sharing even a sentence or two about your own feelings and memories in each card or note you write.  It's so easy to find a few words or phrases that seem to work for everyone in every situation and just thoughtlessly jot them on a card.  I'm guilty of this myself!  But, after re-reading Jean's note, I'm going to take time to personalize each note more and truly think about what I want to say.  Afterall, I truly want the notes I send to bring the reader comfort, even weeks or months after their pet or human loved one has died.

I'll offer more tips on helpful condolences next week in Part 2 of this article.

--Laurel

How Do You Make Decisions?

So, as you know my Henry has been ill for some time. He's hanging in there, but lost a little more weight on today's check-up at his vet's. He's down to just over six pounds. (In the photo below, Henry was still a little heavier. It was taken a couple of months ago.) There is obviously some underlying cause, but we're treating very much with minimal treatments - more palliative than anything.

Henry is 10 years old. He's had a couple of bad health scares in the past. My philosophy with him (and with all of our cats right now) is that I will do what I can to make sure he's doing OK, and feeling alright. If he starts to feel worse, or continues to lose weight, I will have to make a tough decision at some point to euthanize him. No matter what the underlying cause of his weight loss is, I won't choose big, heroic treatment.

Henry's vet told me today, that it is possible that he has lymphoma. We don't know that for sure, but it's looking like a possibility based on his symptoms. If that is true, Henry will probably show decline rather than improvement. If that happens, I'll know that I need to make a euthanasia decision for him. I wouldn't choose chemotherapy for him even if we did find out that it IS lymphoma. (And actually, my vet said she wouldn't recommend it for Henry either.)

So... decision-making is one of the hardest parts of being a pet parent. I definitely sometimes think I should do more for my cats, but it wouldn't be true to me, and I don't want to put them through hard treatments either. I don't think it's a good quality of life for them. So, minimal medicines and palliative care it is.

In making decisions about what to do for Henry, I wondered how you all, as pet parents, make the decisions for your pets. Do you go for whatever treatment your vet recommends? Or do you choose minimal treatments (either for monetary, or non-monetary reasons)? I also have to say that finding a veterinarian who is comfortable making recommendations for minimal treatment is important. It has helped me immensely - I never feel that I'm not doing enough based on what she tells me!

--Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

8 Tips for Making Decisions for Your Pet

8 Tips to Help Pet Parents Make Decisions

Dog Mourns Soldier

You may have seen this story last week online. I did, and wanted to share it with you.

The photo accompanying the story is rather haunting. Hawkeye, the labrador retriever who belonged to the fallen soldier, walked up to the casket at the beginning of the funeral service and lay down near it throughout.

Navy Sealman Jon Tumilson was killed in Afghanistan. Tumilson was one of the soldiers who was killed when their helicopter was shot down by Taliban insurgents.

His cousin snapped the photo and said, "I felt compelled to take one photo to share with family members who couldn't make it or couldn't see what I could from the aisle."

Apparently, Hawkeye was a huge part of Tumilson's life. He led the family into the funeral service, and laid down near the casket after the service started. Hawkeye will now go home with a good friend of Tumilson's.

We wonder if animals grieve. I think in seeing this photo and story, that yes, they do. Maybe not in the same ways we humans do, but Hawkeye clearly misses his friend, and knew he needed to stay near the casket. You can read the full story here.

Now, if you're like me, you'll be compelled to go give your pets a little bit of extra love now. 

--Tammy 

The "Verb-ness" of Love

This post is a previous edition of a Wednesday Wisdom email that went out to subscribers several months ago. The post is so good we thought you'd like to read it too!

"What I've seen here in Tucson is the verb-ness of love.  That love is what you do, who you are, and how you show up.  Love is bigger than most people try to limit it to be.  It recognizes that you live in connection with everyone.  Therefore, compassion is an automatic response."

 --Rev. Donald Graves, Center for Spiritual Living, Tucson, Arizona

I'm basically a teacher and a writer---a teacher and a writer who is also a trained mental health professional.  During my almost 30-year career, I've focused all of these roles on one thing.

Grief.

So, as an expert of sorts, I've kept an eye on the ways our society and, more specifically, our media deals with grief.

More and more often, the media is showing us the love and compassion that come with loss, rather than the murders and trials and the despair.  Instead, it's showing us how people are healing and helping one another through times of grief.

In other words, it's showing us the "verb-ness" of love.
 
Don't you love that term? 

As Rev. Graves points out in the quote above, the recent shooting in Tucson showed us what love in action looks like. And, it looks like compassion--the "awareness of and desire to alleviate distress and suffering."*

Let's get out there today and be a verb! (photo from istockphoto.com)

--Laurel
 

*Merriam-Webster dictionary definition

Regrets are of the Heart

 

    "Regrets are of the heart, the yearning for more and the chance to always to it better.  Regrets will always belong to the past.  And death has a cruel way of giving regrets more attention than they deserve."                           --Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler, On Grief and Grieving

 

One of my most memorable clients was a middle-aged woman---I'll call her Joyce---whose best friend and closest confidante for 15 years was a toy poodle named Angel.  Joyce was a short, plump, rosy-cheeked dynamo who wore her dark hair piled on top of her head in a classic bea hive hairdo.  She was loud and boisterous and fun to be around.

And, she was extremely religious.

I admit that I have a strong spiritual nature and usually gravitate toward others who operate from a deeply spiritual center.  So, it wasn't surprising to me that the day I met Joyce, we spent over three hours talking about Angel's condition and the religious solution for it.  She read verses from the Bible to me.  She showed me a letter from her priest.  She openly discussed her most recent personal transgressions and related how each step of Angel's deteriorating condition was punishment for them.

I must admit that I was somewhat fascinated by this up-close-and-personal view of religious thinking.  I wasn't raised this way and consider myself a spiritual being, but certainly not religious like Joyce.  But, she kind of got to me that day.  I felt a little stir of some sort in my heart, a bit of hope, a bit of wonder.....could all this God stuff really be true?

Joyce's faith was who she was.  It wasn't something she pulled out when she was in a crisis.  She lived it every moment of every day.  And she was so enthusiastic and dedicated to it.  I couldn't help but be pulled in to her world that day.

In fact, I was so pulled in that I broke one of the cardinal rules of counseling.  I began to confide my own worries and problems to her.  You see, I was feeling a bit raw and vulnerable that day because my sister had recently been diagnosed with---you guessed it!---the very same brain tumor as Joyce's dog Angel.

Seriously.  I'd been at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, with my sister just a few days ago and heard the surgeon tell her the name of her tumor.  Then, I'd been with Joyce in the exam room when the veterinary oncologist had given her the same diagnosis for Angel.  Only, the veterinarian had also given Angel a prognosis---about 2 months to live.

That hit me hard.  If this was true for Angel, was it also true for my sister?

I needed Joyce that day as much as she needed me.  Our time together wasn't grief counseling.  It was truly mutual support.  Two human beings really being "there" for one another.

Joyce prayed for me and my sister that day and, later that night, I did my best to return the favor, at her request, for her and her sweet, little Angel dog.

Something worked because both my sister and Angel lived well beyond their two month timeline.

And, though, I occasionally look back and wince at my professional breach of ethics, I can't say I regret the slip up.  I believe that, on that particular day, Joyce and Angel were meant to be there for me as much as I was meant to be there for them.

And that's the way this crazy world works.

 --Laurel

Savor the Small Moments

As you all know, I and my little family, have recently relocated from Oregon to northern California. We are slowly adjusting - the cats have adjusted easier than the humans in this case!

I'm learning some valuable lessons though. In leaving Oregon, we realized that we'd found "home". Oregon is where we want to be, where we belong, and where we're going to work to be again. Until we left, though, we didn't realize the depth of our love of place!

Because things have been rough in transition for me (and my husband) I'm learning to savor the small moments of good too. I'm playing with the cats more often. And they love it - and it makes me laugh and smile, which I need. I found a new toy that my old boy, Oscar, apparently LOVES. He jumps and chases it like a kitten, though he's 14 years old now!

Henry is doing better, though he is still pretty skinny. He's eating again. I really savor the moments now when his personality shines through again! He wasn't interested in pets or playing much for a while there, and he's starting to be interested again! Ben just wishes they could go out on the balcony here. (They can't as it's not a safe spot for them ... we're thinking about ways we could make it safe for them to be out though!)

And we (the humans!) are learning to appreciate the beauty we do have around us. Though we don't live 1/2 a mile from the ocean anymore, we have visited a number of stunning places within a short (ish) drive. Yosemite National Park, Lake Tahoe, and just this last weekend Lassen Volcanic National Park. Amazing sights that I might not have had the opportunity to visit unless we'd moved here. (This photo is one that my husband took while I was driving. It was amazing to see so much snow in the middle of August. The road through the park only opened about one week ago!)

So - I hope that I can keep this attitude of savoring the small moments in my life as we go along. And I hope you can too. Now - go give a pet an unexpected hug!

--Tammy

Peace in Your Heart

This post is a previous edition of a Wednesday Wisdom email that went out to subscribers several months ago. The post is so good we thought you'd like to read it too!

"The only way I can get him back is to be happy, to feel peace in my heart, to live the way he showed me to live, and to make use of the gifts he gave me."  --Unknown

I found these wise words scribbled on a piece of scrap paper when I was sorting through a pile of papers on my desk.  The words were surrounded by quotation marks, which usually means I wrote them down while talking to someone on the telephone.  This time, though, I forgot to make note of the speaker!

And I regret that because whoever spoke these profound words deserves credit for understanding the key to healing our feelings of grief.

Grieving doesn't mean replaying hurtful memories over and over again in our minds.  And it doesn't mean continuing to relive the painful feelings we associate with loss either.  Yet, that's what many of us believe grief to be - Feeling lousy.  Staying with the sadness.  Living less than whole lives.

It's as if we believe we have been "chosen" to bear the pain of losing someone dear to us and now we must "honor" that task by never feeling joy again.  Continuing to grieve, we believe, keeps us connected to the loved one who has died.  It would be disloyal to feel anything else!

Yet, nothing could be further from the truth.

The process of grieving is simply another name for the process of healing.  Grieving means finding the love that remains even though loss has occurred.

When we focus our minds on the memories of what our loved one taught us and gave us and, when we incorporate those lessons into who we are now, we find meaning and personal growth.

Our loved ones who die, especially our pets who love us unconditionally, don't want us to feel lousy out of loyalty to them! Hey, they loved us!  And anyone who truly loves you wants you to be happy, right?

If you're feeling sad and depressed because you're grieving, allow yourself to truly FEEL those feelings, down to the tips of your toes, and then release them and move on to the feelings of love.

Feel peace in your heart and make use of the gifts your pet or your human loved one gave you.

--Laurel

The Healing Power of Mother Nature

This post is a previous edition of a Wednesday Wisdom email that went out to subscribers several months ago. The post is so good we thought you'd like to read it too!

"It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear.  The one who says nothing good comes of this is not yet listening." 

--Clarissa Pinkola Estes

 

Years ago, I had a client whose small dog had recently been snatched by a coyote from her backyard. As we talked, I learned that her husband had also died in a rock climbing accident and her cousin had drowned in a lake during a family reunion.

 
 "I hate nature!" she sobbed.  "Only awful things happen outside."

 

Over the months that we met, I became concerned about the many ways this lovely young woman was limiting her life because she now feared the outdoors.  She stopped taking her young children to a park to play.  She didn't walk her surviving dog.  Vacations to places like Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon became out of the question.

 

Then, one winter day, she told me something surprising.  She said she'd gotten up that morning and gone to the kitchen, as usual, to get a cup of coffee.  But, today, instead of sitting down to read the newspaper, she'd walked over to her patio doors to look out into the backyard.

Fox close-up. Photo from dreamstime.com

And, she'd found herself gazing straight into the eyes of a fox.

 

He was sitting in the middle of her yard, facing her house, with his bushy tail wrapped around his front paws.  His orangey-red fur was startling beautiful against the white snow.

 

"He didn't move when he saw me," she said, her eyes gleaming with the wonder of it all.  "He sat perfectly still and stared back at me for a very long time.  It was as if he had been waiting for me."

"Did he tell you anything?" I coaxed.

 

She hesitated, wondering if I would think she was crazy if she told me that the animal "talked" to her.

 

"He stared at me with these bright, intense eyes.  Honestly, I couldn't look away."  She glanced up at me to see if I was buying it.  And, of course, I was.  "It seemed that he wanted me to come outside," she said.  "And, the weird thing is that I wanted to go.  I wasn't afraid."

 

After that, my client began to relax a bit, to "dip her toes into the water," so to speak.  During other conversations, she told me that the fox had seemed very much like her late husband.  The voice she had "heard" in her mind and the presence the fox emitted had the same feel as her husband's when he was alive.

 

Nature does occasionally do damage.  But, nature also heals.

 

May you benefit somehow today from the healing power of Mother Nature.

 

--Laurel

Baby Pictures

I was going through a box of old photos recently. It’s always a mixed bag for me. Sometimes I get caught in the past, staring at how I used to look, which for one thing is younger – much younger.

And in most pictures, it was thinner.

Sad but true!

Another trap I sometimes fall into with old photos is feeling melancholy. Things just aren’t the same for any of us. Life is not necessarily better or worse, but its usually different.

Change happens and nowhere is that more apparent than in a box of photographs from one’s past. Some days I handle it better than others.

Perhaps it’s looking at people I’ve lost track of, or loved ones who are no longer living.

Perhaps it’s a sense of time racing past me. The dreams that fueled my youth may not seem quite as attainable now.

Change often means loss.

And its sidekick, grief.

Those are a couple of tough feelings to handle.

As I was sorting and sifting through my past, I came upon two lovely, wonderful glimpses of Bud.

I didn’t know him as a baby, so these photographs are really fun. You can see his personality from the get go.

I wonder what he’d be thinking if he could see these pictures? Would he feel sad at time lost?

Or discouraged at seeing the abundance of gray creeping into his coat?

I doubt it. Bud is much better than I am at living in the moment. Accepting today for what it is.

And really, who cares about a few more pounds or the obvious passage of time?

Do I?

I’m trying not to.

How about you?

(First photo is Bud at 2 weeks. Second is Bud at five years.)

--Jean

Compounded Grief

We talk a lot about grief here at the Café. I have been having a difficult time in the last several weeks with my own grief. It's a compound grief of many losses.

My husband and I are leaving our beloved spot on the Oregon coast to move to the Sacramento, CA area for a job for him. He's been unemployed for the whole time we lived here in Oregon (not for lack of trying!) so we're happy about the job, but leaving this place is a whole different type of grief.

Right before we moved almost exactly two years ago, we had to euthanize our little Miss Girl. The grief in that decision was so difficult since we were also uprooting and making a cross-country move (from Colorado to Oregon.) I grew up in Colorado, so that was a HUGE step for me to take. I didn't really grieve leaving the place of Colorado, but leaving Miss Girl behind, leaving my friends and family. This time is very different.

We love living here in Oregon. I am finding that my grief of leaving the place is so strong this time. Thankfully, we are not facing a euthanasia right before moving this time, but the grief is acute anyway, though so different. All of these griefs seem to be compounding in my feelings of leaving Oregon. I am looking forward to the move, to the new place, and many other positive things. It's hard to balance that with the sadness and grief though.

Have you ever faced griefs like this? How do you find ways to deal with the sadness? For me, I'm spending as much time as I can - between packing and cleaning - near the ocean. We are only 1/2 a mile from it now, and will still be able to drive to it from Sacramento, but so much further! We're enjoying as much as we can before we head out at the end of June! (The photo is the view from our balcony in Oregon.)

--Tammy

Where the Red Fern Grows

**Spoilers ahead. If you haven't read this book and don't want to know the ending, don't continue reading!**

I have been on a fun journey this year. I've decided to re-read my way through some of my childhood favorite books. So far, these have included: Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, The Little House on the Prairie series (all of them!), Island of the Blue Dolphins, Homecoming, and most recently Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls.

I fondly remember this story. My grandaddy used to call me up and let me know when the movie was coming on TV (we didn't have a television until I was well into my teens.) We'd all head over to his house to watch the replay of the movie with him. He was a huge animal lover, especially dogs. Before I was born, my grandaddy owned a pet store in Fort Collins, CO. And throughout the rest of his life, he raised angel fish. They had something on the order of 27 fish tanks in their small house!

So, this book has special meaning to me beyond just the wonderful story. I hadn't read the book in probably about 20 years, so going back was quite the journey. It was an old, familiar friend. The love that Billy has for his little dogs is the best example of human-animal bond I've ever read, honestly. This kid back in the Ozark mountains saved for TWO years to be able to buy his hound dogs so he could hunt coons with them. (Can you imagine any kid these days working so hard toward something they wanted? I know I never did, that's for sure!)

Old Dan and Little Ann are his loyal companions, and they are completely attached to one another. One won't eat until the other is fed. Through all of their hunting adventures, they are a team. The bonds between boy and dog are amazing. I was so moved by the relationship that Billy had with his dogs. Reading this story again with a different perspective than I had as a kid was a great experience.

Back when I watched this movie with grandaddy and read this book, I had never lost a pet. I hadn't experienced the grief of pet loss yet. My childhood dog, Beau-Beau, died when I was about 13. Since then, I've lost a number of my own pets, but I've also experienced the euthanasia process and pet loss with so many other people because of the work I've done over the last 10 years. Thinking about the loss that Billy experienced in losing Old Dan to a horrendous wound, and then losing his Little Ann too because she wouldn't live without Old Dan, was so very sad. This young kid had worked so hard for these dogs, and then loved and trained them tirelessly, and then had a catastrophic loss. But he gained so much by having them.

I think the lesson from this book for me is this. Having pets is a wonderful experience, and losing pets is a horrible and sad experience, but the joy you get from having pets as a part of your life far outweighs the loss. Billy says in the story, "You were worth it, old friend, and a thousand times over." And I fully believe that is true!

Do you have a pet related book that you remember fondly from your childhood? Have you ever gone back to re-read the story as an adult?  (Image is from the movie Where the Red Fern Grows)

--Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

Five Minutes of Grief Education

Preparing for Loss

Regret #9 - Bullies Deserve the Same Good-Bye as Others

“The head alone is tyrannical.  The heart alone is chaotic.  The head and heart together is mastery.” 

--Carla Gordan

Years ago, in the midst of an Iowa blizzard, I sprinted across our backyard to retrieve my purse, which I’d left in the car parked in our detached garage.  On my way back to the house, I heard loud meowing. Caterwauling, really.

Fighting the freezing wind, I made my way to a small tree in our neighbor’s yard and looked up into the branches. The desperate face of a cold, wet kitten stared back at me.

Even in his predicament, this cat had attitude.  And chutzpah. “Meow!” he commanded. “Get me out of here!”

Feeling like I had just been given an order by my commanding officer, and with my heart already hooked, I ran inside to convince my husband that it was our duty to save this poor, little soul.  Translation:  “Pete, you need to put on your winter clothes, get a ladder from the garage, climb up into the tree in the middle of a blizzard, and grab this cat who, by the way, is so eager to get out of the tree that he will most likely claw your face up!  And, please do it right now!”

If you read this blog regularly, you know that I have a kind, saintly husband, so this convincing wasn’t really hard to do.  However, there was grumbling.

Over the next few weeks, we learned that the attitude and sense of superiority our kitten had displayed during the blizzard wasn’t really due to the blizzard.  That was the real cat.  Casey, as we named him, was a grouch and a bully.  Our other cats hated him and were scared of him. Our dogs gave him a wide berth.  Truth be told, Pete wasn’t too fond of him either.  We began to suspect that someone had actually stashed him in that tree, hoping the blizzard might do what they had not been able to bring themselves to do! (That's me about 15 years ago along with Casey and Tai.)

Casey caused so much trouble and stress that, twice, I tried to find other homes for him with unsuspecting friends.  But, after a few weeks of trying, they always gave him back.  The second time, my head said I should take him to the animal shelter and be done with him but my heart said something different.  So, he stayed.

At 18 years of age, the end was finally near for Casey.  Yet, even in his weakened, diminished state, he still fought me for my office chair every morning.  That chair was HIS and woe to me if I needed to use it!  So, the day I found him squatting near the backdoor rather than defending his chair was the day I knew it was time to say good-bye.

So, here’s where the regret comes in.

I asked my family if they felt they needed to go with me so they could say good-bye and they said they didn’t.  So I went alone.  At the veterinarian’s office, I asked if they had a comfort room or a more fitting place to perform euthanasia and they said they didn’t.  So I allowed the vet to make the final injection as we stood on either side of the cold, bare exam table.

And now I regret that Casey’s death was too clinical, too impersonal.

I knew better.  After all, I was a veterinary grief counselor at one of the most prestigious veterinary teaching hospitals in the country. Compassionate euthanasia procedures was my main area of expertise!

But, in the wake of saying good-bye to a cat I had never fully bonded with, I abandoned my own values. I didn’t make the extra effort or insist upon the circumstances that every pet who is “family” deserves. I didn’t combine what my head knew and my heart felt.  I just tuned it all out.

I’ve been present at all my pet’s deaths and this is the only one for which I truly feel guilt and regret. And, I’ve dealt with that regret by deciding I will never abandon my own values and needs again when it comes to doing what I know is right for a member of my family…human or furry!  Casey taught me an important lesson and, though a tug of guilt remains, I am forever grateful.

--Laurel

Related articles you might find helpful:

Making the Decision to Euthanize Your Pet

"It's All My Fault!" Helping Others Deal with Guilt

Stuck in the Mud

“Don’t cry because it’s over.  Smile because it happened.”

--Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss)

You’ve all heard the story about the little girl who climbed atop a huge pile of s%#* in her grandpa’s barn and started eagerly shoveling.  When asked why she was doing such a disgusting job with so much joy and enthusiasm, she replied, “With all this poop, I’m sure there’s a pony in here somewhere!”

The sentiment goes along with this saying from an unknown, but often quoted, source:

“If you fall in a mud puddle, check your pockets for fish.”

I really like this quote.

It has everything I look for in a mantra.  Humor, a zen-like sensibility, and a vivid image that I can wrap my brain around.

In fact, sometimes when I’m down, I actually imagine myself wallowing in that metaphorical mud puddle.  Once I have that image in mind, I can remember to pull myself up and check my pockets for those proverbial fish!

But, lately, I’ve been falling into mud puddles and haven’t done a good job of checking my pockets for fish.  You see, my youngest daughter is graduating from high school next month and will be going off to college.  My husband and I are facing the end of our parenting era and staring the empty nest straight in the face!

Honestly, we’ll be fine.  We still really like each other and will have a lot of fun together in our new lives!

But, loss takes many forms and I know that, for the next few months, those good, old feelings of grief will follow me around as I say good-bye to the family life I’ve known for the past two decades. 

While I will ultimately take the advice offered by Dr. Seuss in the opening quote, right now I’m more aware of the mud than the fish.

Have you had a time in your life when you felt stuck in the mud? What did you do to find the fish? Share in the comments. (photo from dreamstime.com)

--Laurel

Related articles you might find helpful:

Five Ways to Help Others (and Yourself) Through Pet Loss

Accepting a Referral for Grief Support

A Memorial Ceremony

Have you ever done or considered holding a memorial ceremony for a pet? It's becoming more common for pet parents to want to do something of this sort to honor a beloved pet who has died.

We have a new product that we think will be a great way to help you with a memorial for a pet. Our new Tribute Ballons can be part of a balloon releasing ceremony - a powerful way to honor a pet's memory. After inflating these balloons with helium, there is a space to write the pet's name or a message.

Consider releasing balloon's immediately after a pet's euthanasia, during a burial or cremation, following a ceremony, or on the anniversary of a pet's death. Children may be especially interested in honoring or saying good-bye to a pet this way.

The balloons come in white and feature a winged paw print design. Each kit includes 5 balloons and 5 18" lengths of gold cord. $5.00/package. www.veterinarywisdomforpetparents.com/balloonstore.htm

--Tammy

Letting Go of Grief

“Some people think it’s holding on that makes one strong.  Sometimes it’s letting go.”

                                                                                                                        --Sylvia Robinson

A recent conversation with a friend of mine went something like this,

“It’s so unlike me to be thinking this way about my dad!  I mean, he died over 10 years ago and I seem to be missing him, truly missing him, more now than I did then.”

“Maybe you never really allowed yourself to grieve for him,” I suggested.

“Oh, I grieved!  But, I could always do that ‘bounce thing’ and get on with my life.”

“Bounce thing?”

“You know, stop all that crying and whining and bounce back to behaving like a sane person!”

“Ahhhh….bearing your burden with a stiff upper lip.  That’s what you mean.”

Needless to say, we followed this conversation with a friendly talk about the healing power of allowing ourselves to grieve fully.  Not to mention the fact that it’s not insane to grieve for your father!  I shared my story about how I had ‘truncated’ or cut off my own feelings of grief after my father died.  I was a ‘bouncer’, too!

Through my professional training and years of personal therapy, I learned that my process of ‘bouncing’ had created a container of sorts for my grief.  Over the course of my life, I would periodically take my grief out of the container (meaning I would cry or feel down for awhile), but then I’d quickly put it back in and slam the lid!

The result of this process was that my grief was always with me, tucked safely away inside that box.  I carried it around with me like a burden I was forced to bear.

But, one day, I suddenly got it.  Another member of my family died and I found myself grieving more deeply and completely (and, if truth be told, painfully) than ever before.  This grief was different because, instead of cutting off my feelings when they got too intense, I let myself cry and sob and talk about my sadness until I was done.  I let my feelings of grief flow through me, let them take their natural course.

I allowed myself a long period of mourning.  And, I wallowed in it.

This time, I didn’t cut off my emotions and, with some amazement, I noticed that my grief process felt complete.  In a strange way, I felt good, lighter; like I had let go of a heavy burden.

Now, let me be very clear.  Believing that I have released and “completed” my grief doesn’t mean I don’t still think about my loved ones and miss them.  I do!  Often and a lot!

However, today, I don’t have a container of grief that I carry around inside me.  My heart doesn’t feel heavy with that burden.

Today, when I think or talk about my loved ones who have died, I don’t feel “stuck” in feelings of sadness and helplessness.  Instead, I have light, happy memories of the ways these people touched my life.

Consequently, I don’t feel like I have to find a way to make myself bounce back to sanity!

I simply feel happy and grateful because they were in my life.  And, instead of feeling grief, I honestly feel love.

Do you have a story about letting go of grief? Tell me about it in the comments! I’d truly like to hear about it!  (photo from dreamstime.com)

--Laurel

Related articles you might find helpful:

Five Ways to Bounce Back from Grief

Five Minutes of Grief Education

The Power of Words

I have had some recent losses in my life. I wrote about it in a recent Wednesday Wisdom, which if you don't subscribe to our emails, you can view here. (If you wish to receive these emails, you can also sign up to do that here!) We have lost two cats in the past couple of years, and my sister died last summer.

In dealing with that grief, my emotions have been quite strong in recent weeks. For whatever reason, I'm feeling the losses a lot lately. I don't know if it's because of spring time coming, the renewal of seasons, or the fact that I've had a lot of alone time lately (my husband has been on several trips.) But, whatever the reason, I've been thinking about my kitties and my sister a lot.

When I came across this video recently, it really made a lot of sense to me and I wanted to share it with you. It was initially shared by Marty of Grief Healing on her Facebook page. The message of the video is that words can have power. Changing your words can have an affect on how you view things, or how other people view you.

Take a minute and watch this powerful video.

 

Are there ways that you can change your words in your life to affect positive change? For me, I have changed the way I'm thinking of my emotions. Instead of being worried, down in the dumps, whatever, I'm thinking of it as a positive, healing time. I miss my sister - I always will, but I'm looking towards the positive things I had with her before she died. Her birthday is coming up. I always found fun little gifts for her, so I'm still looking for things that she might have liked, and enjoying that, rather than being sad about it. I'm reminiscing about the things that our cats did that we miss. And laughing about it, along with the tears!

Can you make some positive changes in your words or behaviors?

--Tammy

P.S. Don't forget to enter your comment on yesterday's post for our giveaway!!

Jack, the Plantation Dalmation

A few days ago, Tammy wrote about the dog who influenced Jane Goodall. It seems Jane credits her childhood dog with teaching her everything she needed to know about animals.

As a professional, Jane approached her study of apes from the same perspective that she approached her dog, getting to know each of them as individual personalities.  This set her apart and made her work unique.

I can trace the roots of my career as a veterinary grief counselor back to a childhood dog, too.

As a young girl, I spent every day after school at my grandparents' Minnesota farm.  My best friend there was a friendly and protective dalmation named Jack.  My grandparents didn't own a huge amount of land---they didn't even have a hired hand to help with the chores---but they laughingly referred to  their "spread" as the plantation and to Jack as the Plantation Dalmation.  And, Jack truly ruled the kingdom!

Jack was always at my side when I was outside at G-ma's and G-pa's, except when a car would drive by on the gravel road leading to the farmhouse next door.  Then, Jack would be off like a rocket, barking furiously at the driver and nipping at the tires as the car sped past.

I never thought much about this behavior.  In those days, in the country, it was just what dogs did.

But, one day, the car won and Jack lost.

After noticing Jack had been gone for longer than usual, my grandfather went looking for him and found him lying in the ditch near the neighbor's driveway.  He was still alive, but badly injured.

When I arrived at the farm after school, I found my grandma in the barn.  She had made a bed of straw for Jack and was trying to get him to drink some cool water.  Jack was breathing hard and didn't seem able to raise his head or do much of anything for himself.

I was distraught and begged my grandpa to get Jack some help.  But, in those days, vets only worked on large animals and people like my grandpa certainly didn't have money to pay a vet to try to help a farm dog.  When one died or ran away, farmers simply got another one.

I don't mean to make my grandpa sound heartless or mean.  He wasn't at all like that.  He loved animals and especially loved Jack.  But, in this case, he didn't believe that there was anything any of us could do but make Jack comfortable until he died.

And, that's what we did.  Much to my despair.

You'd think this experience would have made me want to be a veterinarian.  But, the impression it made on me was more about how inadequate and unprepared people are to help one another through sad times and times of loss and grief.

I grew up wanting to help people and, especially, to help people who were feeling sad.

I've never thought that grieving for a pet who has died is silly or "weak" or overly sentimental.  I've always, always understood, thanks to Jack.

Jack made me perfectly suited for the career I found myself in, which proves to me again that there is always meaning and purpose in the events of our lives, even when we can't see the "good" in them at the time.

A belated thanks to you, Jack. Rest in peace, dear friend...

--Laurel

(photo from bigstockphoto.com)

What If You Witness an Animal's Death?

Word came this weekend of Knut's sudden death.

Remember Knut?  He was the adorable baby polar bear whose mother rejected him.  He was then hand-raised by zookeepers who were often criticized for keeping the bear alive with such intensive human care and bonding.  Many thought the zoo should have simply let nature take its course.

Knut was only four-years-old, but he was the "rock star" of the Berlin zoo.  Thousands of people visited him each year and bought millions of dollars of merchandise bearing his image and name.

According to news reports, about 600 people were at the zoo watching Knut in his compound on the day that he died.  One visitor said Knut drank some water and then seemed to collapse.  He laid still, with his back to the crowd for almost 10 minutes before zookeepers finally screened off the view and told everyone that Knut had died.

It was a very sad day in Berlin and a sad day for all of us who feel attached to these sweet celebrity animals.

While I didn't personally witness Knut's collapse, I can imagine what the spectators felt as they wondered what had happened and subsequently grieved his passing.

Shock.  Disbelief.  Helplessness.  Utter sadness.

And, then, the need to DO SOMETHING.

So, they created makeshift memorials, wrote letters to the paper or the zoo, and bought Knut memorabilia as a remembrance of the bear who brought them such joy.

There was an outpouring of people's grief, as well as support for the zookeepers, who described Knut as their "baby."

Grief always demands expression and the wounds of loss heal more quickly and effectively when that expression finds a meaningful path.

My heart goes out to those hundreds of zoo visitors and workers who were with Knut on his last day.

Have you ever witnessed an animal's unexpected death?  What did you do to heal your feelings of trauma and grief? (Photo David Gannon/AFP)

--Laurel

Pet Eulogies

So, I came across an interesting question the other day. Would you eulogize your pet?

We talk a lot about ways to memorialize, remember, and grieve our pets. But, I'd never really thought about writing a eulogy for a pet. In a way, though, we've done just that right here on our blog. Laurel and I have both written posts about pets we've lost. And that's a eulogy of sorts.

The article talks about pet parents using the internet and blogs to write about their pets who have died. Eulogizing, remembering, and helping through the grief process. In the article, there are links to numerous posts that are all specifically called eulogies to pets. I really loved reading these sweet, endearing stories (and I hope you'll take the time to follow the links from the article! My favorite is perhaps the one written about a goldfish!)

Though I haven't consciously thought about it, I have written eulogies. And thinking back, writing posts about pets who have died has been very cathartic. Sharing about that pet, writing down the things I remember, the things I miss... it's a good process. What do you think? Have you ever taken the time to write a eulogy for a pet or will you in the future? (Pictured is my cat Bear. It is one of very few photos I have of him. And yes, he was always talking, so a photo with his mouth open is great!)

--Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

 Ways to Memorialize a Pet

Normal Grief

What's Our Theme for 2011? No Regrets!

During the 20 years I was a veterinary grief counselor at the Colorado State University Veterinary Teaching Hospital, I talked with hundreds of pet parents AFTER their pets had died.  Though Tammy isn't a counselor, but in her role as administrative assistant for the Argus Institute, she also talked with many pet parents calling for support after a pet died. Almost all of these pet parents had one thing in common.

They had regrets.

Some regretted that they had waited too long to euthanize their pets.  Others regretted that they had euthanized their pets too quickly, without really thinking it through.

Some had regrets about how they had said that last, hard good-bye.  Others regretted where their pets had been put down.

Many people regretted not including their children in the decisions about their pets' treatment and eventual euthanasia. And, one woman I talked with, regretted that she had tried to do the "right thing" by asking her ex-husband to be with her that day.  He had arrived at the veterinary clinic with his girlfriend---the one who had broken up their marriage---and both of them had obviously had one too many glasses of wine!  Needless to say, their presence during her dog's final moments made a difficult situation much, much worse.

Regrets are horrible companions.  They intrude on your thoughts, tie your stomach in knots, and sometimes, depending on their impact and significance, alter the course of your life.

Most of us don't want to repeat the situation that caused us to have regrets in the first place.

So, in an attempt to avoid those situations, we might also avoid seeing the reality that lies before us.  Attempting to avoid our feelings can make us behave in more daring or risky ways.  Avoidance can also make us more timid and cautious about making decisions or confronting a problem. 

At the VetWisdomCafé, we want to help you break out of any denial or avoidance patterns you may have and live life with your pets more consciously.  That's why we're proclaiming 2011 the year of NO REGRETS!

We're passionate about encouraging you to find the best ways to truly enjoy life with your pets while you have them.

And, when you must face the end of those sweet relationships, we're also passinate about helping you prepare to say good-bye.

We know from years of experience and thousands of conversations with pet parents that it's best to prepare for that final good-bye BEFORE your pet dies.

Why?

Because, when you can find the courage and strength to face the reality of your pet's situation, you can do your homework, make the plans that are right for you, and provide your pet---and your family----with the kind of good-bye you all want and deserve.

This kind of preparation usually results in one very good thing....

No Regrets!

We hope you'll continue to join us this year at the VetWisdomCafé and tell us the ways you've found to truly enjoy life with your pets.  We also hope you'll share the ways you've found to prepare yourself for life without them.

Visit us often at www.veterinarywisdomforpetparents.com to see the new resources and articles we'll be posting about Life with Pets without Regrets.  You'll also find information and more about our community  on Facebook, Twitter, and in our monthly VeterinaryWisdom® newsletter.

So, let's start the new year right now...what's your greatest regret about how a pet you loved died? (photo from bigstockphoto.com)

--Laurel and Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

8 Tips for Making Decisions for Your Pet

Five Comfort Conversations to Help You Cope With Pet Loss

Bury me, bury my pet

This is a little bit of a morbid topic, but I ran across an article recently that I found interesting, and disturbing at the same time.

I recently wrote about pet trusts and making accomodations in your wills for your pets care if you die before they do. But apparently, some pet owners are taking this to what I consider the extreme. They are asking that their pets be euthanized and buried with them.

In the article, they give the example of Tom Tom, a 2 year old Yorkie, who was euthanized and buried with his owner. These were his owner's wishes and his family followed through, even though Tom Tom was young and healthy. There are many other examples of people who explicitly asked their family to do something similar with their pets.

While I think this is an odd request to make, I can't judge someone else for making a decision to have their pet euthanized if they die before the pet. I can understand that a person's death might be traumatic for a pet - I get that. My cats would probably not be re-homed easily as they've only ever lived with me (and now my husband too, of course). Oscar is old and grumpy, and I put up with his shenanigans where someone else might not. However, I wouldn't want to have him euthanized if his health was still good and I died first. I'd hope he could be placed with a friend or in another good home...

So, while this idea is definitely not for me, I can see where the request to have this done stems from. I think in most cases, it probably is a genuine worry for their pets... What do you think? Is this something you might request for yourself and your pets? Or have you heard of someone doing this, or dealt with it yourself?

--Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

Body Care for Your Companion Animal

Body Care for Your Clients' Pets

Before or after?

We had a discussion on our Facebook page a couple weeks ago, and I thought I'd bring it to you, our blog readers, and get input.

It seems that there was a caller to the World by the Tail office who was upset at receiving a ClayPaws® print from her vet's office. During the euthanasia of her pet, they tried to make the print while the animal was still living. The pet struggled a little in the process, and the owner didn't like seeing this and so she asked them to stop, and not make the print. When she received the print anyway, she realized that they had made the print after the animal had died, and she didn't like this.

We asked our Facebook group whether they thought making a print after an animal has died is wrong, or offensive in some way. In the scenario above, pretty much everyone understood why the woman was upset at receiving the paw print, since she had explicitly asked them to stop and didn't want the print made if the animal had already died.

However, most people thought it was OK to take a print of an animal even after it had died. Several said they thought it was actually better to take the print after the animal has died since most animals don't like to have their feet messed with. One person said that her veterinarian makes the print after she has administered sedation, but before the euthanasia is final. Another, someone who works in a veterinary office, said that they always do the prints after the animal has passed away.

What is your take on this? Have you experienced having a paw print made in a way that you didn't like? What would you do differently and how would you request that your vet's office do a print for you? We're interested in your input! (Come join us on Facebook too! We're growing our community and discussions there as well!)

--Tammy

Related articles you might find helpful:

ClayPaws® Prints are Cherished Links to Pets

Ways to Memorialize a Pet

Television and Pet Angels

Have any of you ever wanted to be on television? Last month, I had the opportunity to do so for a very important topic. As a veterinary grief consultant, I work for various businesses and veterinary groups. My most recent work has been with a company called Pet Angel World Services (PAWS). PAWS and their accompanying Pet Angel Memorial Centers are -state-of- the- art pet crematories all over the country.

Their mission is to be the standard by which all pet crematories should be and as far as I can tell, they already are. As pets continue to achieve higher and higher status in our society, services for pets are also becoming more sophisticated. We know about the multitude of services for our pets when they are alive, but what about when they have died? Have you ever wondered? How is a pet's body handled in a crematory? What are some important things to know about pet cremation? Are there any standards in the industry?

I have worked as a veterinary grief specialist for a long time now, and in all those years, I never really gave these issues enough consideration. Fortunately, by working with PAWS, I'm learning fast and am realizing just how important the way a pet's body is cared for is to the grieving process (for good or bad). If body care is handled insensitively and badly, the grief process is more difficult. Conversely, when handled compassionately and openly, it can actually help with the grief experience.

So, In conjuction with World Progress Report, PAWS decided to make a commerical educating people about pet crematories (to be aired as public service announcements). Luckily, the generous people at PAWS invited me to come along for the ride and it was quite an experience! I'm used to lecturing in front of large groups but being on television?....I didn't have a clue! They also invited me to lecture for 4 different veterinary societies (for continuing education credit). Their goal is to become full partners with veterinarians and pet hospitals around these sensitive issues involving pet death. While I'll never be a movie star, the good news is that this very important issue is starting to get more of the attention it deserves.

What about all of you? Have you ever given much thought to how your pet's body was handled after death? What's important for you to know about this, and what would you be looking for in a pet crematory? I'm interested in your thoughts!

--Dana

Related articles you might find helpful:

Body Care for Your Companion Animal

Body Care for Your Clients' Pets

The Spirit of the Bond

Veterinarian Dr. Alice Villalobos (an expert in veterinary grief and hospice care) has a standing column in Veterinary Practice News called "The Bond and Beyond". One of her latest articles ("Butter: A Story of Compassion and Healing" provides a terrific discussion about the spiritual aspects of honoring our bonds with animals and dealing with the grief that arises when they die.

For many people, their spiritual interpretation of death is very important to their grief process. It can help us move forward with our grief, or it can get us stuck. I'm excited to see that there are now more services for people who are wanting to explore these issues in-depth (such as pet ccommunicators and spiritual advisers).

What do you all think? Are your pets an important part of your spiritual life? What's comforting to you when dealing with the death of a precious pet? Please share!

--Dana

Related articles you might find helpful:

50 Ways to Build the Bond with Your Pet

When Should I Get a New Pet?

Not just a dog

I came across a column online the other day. The story is so touching and I wanted to share it with you.

Have you ever considered how a veterinarian handles losing one of their own pets? We talk a lot about pet loss around here. Veterinarians use our articles and products to help their own clients through pet loss. But what about them?

This veterinarian in the story decided she needed to write a love letter to her dog, Carni as a tribute and a way to say goodbye. Her motivation to do this was a statement that she hears over and over, "it's just a dog".

Her letter is wonderful, sweet, touching, and heartbreaking, but worth reading in full here. A few lines that particluarly strike me (she goes on after each one to fill in details about Carni.) 

"To my sweet Carni: Because you are `just a dog' you never learned to hold a grudge...

Because you are `just a dog' you never learned anger...

Because you are `just a dog' you only knew how to live in the moment... 

Because you are `just a dog' you loved me every single second of every single hour of every single day of your almost 17 years..."

How have you paid tribute to your "just dogs" (or cats) upon their deaths? I really loved this letter idea, and it is a wonderful way to remind ourselves of the love we have for our pets, and the love that they give back to us! Pet people know that our pets are not "just dogs or cats". (photo from istockphoto.com)

--Tammy

Related products you might like:

Remember the Love ClayPaws® Kits

Pet Memories Box

Different types of grief

I wrote about new ways of grieving last week using social media. It got me to thinking about other types of grief, besides when we actually lose a pet to death.

I've lost cats to the unknown. My cat, Zen, was an indoor/outdoor cat. I rescued him and he lived happily with me on the farm for a couple years. He wandered, but always came home. He did get injured once - I don't know what happened, but he had to have a simple surgery to fix a terrible wound under his leg.

Then one day, Zen didn't come home. And then after three days, still no Zen kitty. I called the Humane Society, asked neighbors, etc. but living in the country, that was about all I could do. I called for him for weeks, but Zen never came home. I still hold out hope that he had found a safe place with another family. But the odds are that Zen got "got" by a coyote or other predator. (Zen is pictured on the left. It's the only photo I have of him and it's pretty fuzzy.)

Grieving for a lost kitty was hard. Never knowing what happened to Zen seemed harder even that grieving for a kitty that I'd had to euthanize.

Another loss I've faced with my cats is that of Luna. Luna is still alive. She is happy and doing well. She doesn't live with us anymore though. As some of you will remember, we made the decision to find a new home for her when we couldn't get the issues between Luna and our Miss Girl. It was the right decision for Miss Girl - she was happier without Luna tormenting her. I think it was the right one for Luna too. She lives with a family who loves her. They have two young-ish boys who adore Luna. (I just got an update recently - and a photo showing Luna curled up on a quilting table - right.)

I had to grieve Luna too. I didn't really realize it, but that's what I had to do. It was a loss, even though I knew Luna was doing OK. She wasn't my kitty anymore, and other than photos, I won't see Luna again.

Have you faced a situation where you had to grieve a pet that hadn't died? or had disappeared and you didn't know what happened? How did you deal with these situations? I can't say exactly how I grieved for Zen and for Luna, but I know I have. I didn't have an exact way to handle my grief, though I wish I had done a little more planning! (For instance, I wish that I had made a ClayPaws® print of Luna before she went to her new home! I thought about it actually, but didn't get it done.)

--Tammy

Related articles that may be helpful:
Five Minutes of Grief Education
Ways to Memorialize a Pet

If You're Grieving, Don't Forget to Breathe

It's common knowledge.

When we're stressed, we hold our breath.

This often leads to feelings of anxiety, nausea, fatigue, and a host of other symptoms.

If you've recently experienced a loss, it's a good bet that you're experiencing "cardiovascular arousal" or the stress related to grief.  This arousal is an automatic response to anything that threatens our well-being, like loss.

When we lived less civilized lives, a threat or danger often meant we needed to prepare ourselves to either run or fight for our lives.  The chemicals released would cause our bodies to flood with the physical energy and mental focus necessary to do so.

Nowadays, though, that same response just makes us feel lousy.  We don't run or fight off the stress.  We don't purge it from our bodies.  In fact, when stress is grief-related, many of us don't even allow ourselves to cry, which is one good way to release the build-up of these so-called "toxins" from our bodies.

Instead, we literally "hold it all in", finding ourselves holding our breath as we do that.

Do yourself a favor and breathe.  Deeply.

Do it again. And again.

Breathing deeply and regularly is calming and energizing all at the same time.  It truly is the best remedy for sadness and grief. 

--Laurel

New ways of grieving

I read an article a couple of weeks ago that got me thinking. In this new age of texting, social media, twittering, facebooking, etc. there are new ways of grieving. The article wasn't specifically about pet loss, but it applies I think.

One example they gave in the article was about Patrick Swayze's wife, Lisa Niemi. She is still sending text messages to him. It was her tradition to text "I love you" to him before boarding a flight. She said, "Either somewhere out there he received [the message], or someone's going, 'Somebody loves me!' And you know what? I figured it was a win-win situation".

YouTube is another "new" medium to help people grieve. Many people are posting tribute videos as memorials to people in their lives who have died. Even a big name star like Angelina Jolie has done this. She and her brother created a web video tribute to their mother. Online forums are another way that people are using technology to help them grieve.

In another article I came across recently, celebrities have taken to twittering about the death of their pets. Jersey Shore's Sammi tweeted about the "worst day of my life" after making the decision to euthanize her dog, Abby. Kelly Osbourne also has tweeted about the death of a pet.

What about you? Do you think you'd use one of these more non-traditional ways to help you with your grief? Can you think of a ritual you have that you'd continue even after your pet died?

--Tammy

Catching Up on Culture

Dr. Alice Villalobos, a leading pioneer in veterinary medicine around pet death, grief support, and hospice support has a standing column every month in Veterinary Practice News  called "The Bond and Beyond." Her October column was a real eye opener as to how cultural differences can affect our bonds with our pets.

Dr. Villalobos has traveled to Japan several times. In her trips and experiences, she has come to learn that many Japanese pet lovers believe that their pet's spirit remains in the home after death. Family members interact with their deceased pet's spirit by thinking about the pet and communicating their thoughts and emotions. They also believe that their pet's spirit would be offended if they were to welcome another into into their lives and home. Subsequently, many Japanese pet owners never adopt a new animal after their other pets have died even though they desparately want to. 

It's sad to hear about how a cultural belief or custom can create additional emotional pain to the experience of death and grief. Do any of you know of different cultural/religious beliefs about pet death, grief, and the after life? I'd be curious to learn more.

--Dana

Is It Wrong to Expect a Pet to Heal?

"If I'd known she was going to die, I would have been prepared for it.  But, the vet said he expected her to live, so I did, too!  I didn't expect her to die and that made it so much worse!" --grieving client, Argus Institute, Colorado State University

It's so difficult to "switch gears" emotionally when we're filled with relief and hope and end up with grief and despair.

The key word in this pet parent's lament is "expected".  She expected her pet to recover, so she probably didn't do or say the things that were important to her.  In other words, she probably found herself with a whole lot of regrets.

In my work with pet parents, I follow the old adage "Expect the best, but prepare for the worst."  When pets are ill or injured and the outcome of a surgery or treatment is "iffy", at best, I encourage my clients to lean into their fear and pain.  I support them as they find the strength to say a "just in case good-bye" before their pet goes to surgery or assist them as they make a plan for the kind of euthanasia or memorial they want their pet to have.

It's never easy for them to do this and, frankly, some people feel very superstitious about it.  They feel that, if they admit to themselves that their pet might die, they are somehow wishing, willing, or at least contributing to that happening.

As a society, we place great emphasis on hope and positive thinking.  I agree with those virtues, but I also know the damage that regrets can do.  Sometimes, the regrets of not doing are more hurtful than the emotional pain of allowing your brain to imagine the worst... 

What's your experience?  Have you had regrets because your expectations weren't accurate?

Shakespeare said, "Expectation is the root of all heartache."  What do you think?

--Laurel

Guilt and grief

“…guilt makes grief sharper and more hurtful.”

--- Dolores Stewart Riccio, writer

 

I'm feeling guilty today.

Oh, don't worry about me.  I'm not doing anything illegal or even shameful.  You see, I'm revising one of the books I wrote about 10 years ago and it's about grief (seriously, do I even know any other topic to write or talk about??!!??)

Anyway, writing about grief often stirs up old memories, old feelings about people and pets I miss, as well as the "survivors" of those losses who I could still be reaching out to with my love and support, but somehow never seem to find the time...

Ouch.  And that's where the guilt comes in.

When it comes to helping people deal with grief, I know in my heart that I could (and probably should) always, always do more.  But, time and life commitments and distance and my own selfish need for some "down time" where I don't have to take care of others, provide me with excuses.  And the price I pay is living with guilt.

Guilt is a constant companion to grief.  It's rare to have one without the other.

As pet parents, we carry guilt about how, where, when, and why our pets die.  And, when we adopt new pet members of our families, we feel guilty about loving them as much (almost as much/!?) as the ones we just lost.

In both my personal and professional lives, I've found that guilt is best dealt with by simply acknowledging its presence, feeling it deeply---but only for a few intense minutes---and then, breathing deeply, releasing it by replacing the "guilt rant" with a new thought and moving on.  Try these:

"I did the best I could at the time with what I had to work with then..."

"If I'd known then what I know now, I would have made a different choice..."

"I did a stupid, thoughtless thing and, if I could change it, I would..."

"If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have learned this important life lesson or become who I am today..."

As Oprah is fond of saying, quoting Maya Angelou, "When we know better, we do better...."

If you're feeling guilty about the death of a pet, forgive yourself.  Gain some perspective and tell yourself a new thought.  Look guilt right in the eye and welcome him for the lessons he can bring...

And then, move on.

--Laurel

Heartbreaking

Heartbreaking...it's a term used quite frequently maybe even more that it should be. However, there are situations where this word is spot-on. Unfortunately, we had one of those at our pet hospital. A good client of ours found that one of her cats had accidentally been exposed to a bat with rabies. Appropriately, she brought the cat in and sure enough, the bat tested positive for rabies. As you all know, there is no cure for rabies.

Fortunately, the cat who had played with the bat was up-to-date on her rabies vaccinations. Therefore, she's only needing to be under quarantine for 14 days. Unfortunately, this client has several other cats (2 of which were also exposed to rabies but have never been vaccinated for it). Now I'm not sure about other states but in Colorado, the quarantine process for animals exposed to rabies who have not been vaccinated is so arduous and complicated, it becomes literally impossible to do. Some instances can require the animal to be in quarantine for over a year with the pet owner incurring the expenses of boarding for the entire duration. Our client simply could not afford the cost of keeping these 2 cats in quarantine for such a long time. So in the end, she had to euthanize both of them. It was heartbreaking for us, for our staff, and most importantly of all...for her.

I can't imagine the pain this client is going through. My heart hurts for her and it's so hard to know that a  simple vaccine could have prevented all this. This situation is a loud wake-up call to all pet owners about the importance of  regular vaccinations for their pets. All pet owners (even the most caring and competent ones) cannot always predict or control the potential dangers to their pets. It's a horrible feeling to be part of a situation in which there are no acceptable options.

I'm sure that many of you have your pets vaccinated on a regular basis. What do you think veterinarians can do to educate people better about these dangers and to make this process easier? At our hospital, we don't require the pet to see a doctor for routine vaccinations (unless of course, there's a compelling medical reason to not do this). With a veterinary nurse giving the vaccinations, we can keep the costs at a minimum and many of our clients prefer this. What are your thoughts?

--Dana

P.S. I ask you to join me in keeping this pet owner and her two cats in our thoughts and prayers. Thank you.

Planting a Tree In Memoriam

"I'm confused about what to do now with my dog's ashes.  He was cremated and I received his remains a couple of weeks ago.  I don't really want to keep them, but I also don't want to scatter them around and then have nowhere that I can "visit" him.  Help!  What do other people do?"  --excerpted from a conversation with a pet parent

This is a common dilemma for pet parents as there aren't as many rules and customs for pet cremains as there are for human cremains.  Here's one idea from a wonderful, little book by Daniel Butler called How to Plant a Tree: A Simple Celebration of Trees and Tree-Planting Ceremonies.

According to Butler, people have always enjoyed a close relationship with trees.  They provide food, shelter, protection, and enjoyment.  And, when planted with purpose, trees can provide meaning and comfort for years and years.  Here's what Mr. Butler suggests for an In Memoriam ceremony combining a loved one's cremains and a tree planting.

The ashes of our loved ones, Butler says, contain minerals like carbon and potassium.  When we line a pit with these ashes, the "physical essence of a person will be incorporated into the cells of a tree" that is planted there and can actually live on within that tree.

Butler suggests you match the personality of your loved one (pet or person) with the characteristics of a tree.  For instance, you might choose an olive tree for a person who loved to cook or an evergreen to symbolize a pet's constant companionship and devotion.  If you live in an apartment, you might try this with an indoor tree like a ficus or Norfolk pine. 

What do you think of this idea?  Has anyone planted a tree in memory of a pet?

Next week, I'll share Daniel Butler's ideas for a tree planting that celebrates a new addition to the family, perhaps a new puppy or kitten, and begins the cycle of life all over again.

--Laurel

Would You Include Your Ex?

"Do you keep the original ClayPaws® prints that you make here?  I'm divorced and, when our dog died, my wife received one, but she didn't get one for me.  I'd really like to have one!"  ---walk-in visitor to the World by the Tail, Inc., offices

Ahhh, the sticky situations that arise when you're divorced...

Of course, we helped this man understand how he could use our ClayPaws® Copy kits to make as many duplicate prints of his dog as he wanted, but that's not the real issue here.

The issue is, how is a pet's dying process, eventual death, and even the memorialization process handled when families must say good-bye to the "family pet", but they are no longer an intact family?

I haven't been through a divorce myself, so my thoughts on this are strictly academic.

Any real life experience to share, readers?  Do you include your ex in decisions?  Do you even notify them of the death?

What works?  What doesn't work?

--Laurel

Eloquent Support

It's always hard to know what to write in a condolence card.

I'm asked about it all the time.  What do I say?

Somehow, writing down our attempts to convey wisdom or sympathy seems more intimidating than taking action...stopping by with lasagne for dinner, offering to care for young children.

But, writing a note can be so comforting.  Words can be rediscovered later, when you most need them again.

Written words preserve the love and understanding you wanted to pass on when someone you care about need then the most.

I ran across a card this weekend that a friend sent us when my husband's mother died last January.  It helped me then and it helped me all over again when I read it yesterday.

There was one phrase, one suggestion my friend made that felt so right to me.  She wrote...

"I know your missing her will be great and heavy at times; and, in the next breath, I trust you will remember her and be touched always by the Grace of her beautiful and vibrant gifts." 

It's the phrase..."and, in the next breath..." that resonated so much with me.  That's how grief can and should be....we should feel it deeply, allow it to be heavy and sad, but then, in the next breath, let it go, turning our thoughts and attention to what remains.

And remembering how grateful we feel that we had such a special love in our lives.

A love that truly never dies...

Let's all try this ourselves as we process our losses.  Feel deeply and, in the next breath, remember the love and gifts we were given.

--Laurel

When You Need to Think Ahead

This week's blog entry for me may be viewed as shameless promotion, but I'd really like you all to check out the new referral website we just completed for pet parents.

The site is designed to help veterinary teams who want to help their clients when they must begin to plan for their pet's deaths.  Our intention is to provide credible information, based on our experiences working side-by-side with veterinarians for twenty years, about the decisions and plans you can make BEFORE your pet dies.

We know from research and clinical experience that, even though it's emotionally challenging to think ahead to this sad event, it can be of tremendous help.

Why?

Because it can help ensure that your pet gets the kind of good-bye he or she deserves

It can help minimize the regrets you may have later if you can't do or say the things you want to say or do for your pet because you get caught off guard and are unprepared to say the kind of good-bye you want to say

It can help you understand what your veterinarian is and is not able to provide for you during euthanasia or even post-death support and counseling

It can help you be prepared to support your children, other relatives, neighbors, pet sitters, people you visit if your pet is a therapy animal, etc.  If you don't think ahead, these folks may not have a chance to say good-bye in ways that are meaningful for them

Because planning ahead can spur you to gather the items that may make a huge difference for you in dealing with your own grief...that wonderful poem you want to read at your pet's memorial gathering, but can't lay your hands on...the "container" (casket, urn, or even an acceptable box of some sort) that you won't be able to locate when you need it most...

I think you get the idea.

When I talk with people who are anticipating the loss of their dear pet, I find they actually feel better when they can feel they are taking some action for their pet and for themselves that will be comforting in the long run.

And, as sad and anxious as the pre-death time may be for pet parents, it's actually a bit easier to think straight and make plans BEFORE a loss occurs.  After the death of a pet, grief hits like a ton of bricks and your brain feels fuzzy and your energy often ebbs away just when you have lots of details and decisions to attend to...

Visit www.veterinarywisdomforpetparents.com and get a feel for what you might do now to help you and your family cope just a little bit better later...We Care and we're here to help. (photo from istockphoto.com)

--Laurel

How soon should you adopt again?

"Didn't you always feel better when your pet was around? Didn't your pet always seem to be saying, 'Hey, what's with the glum face? Let's do something right now to take care of that bad mood of yours!'"

--pet parent participating in a pet loss support group advising
another member to "get out there" and adopt a new pet

When a pet dies, it's quite common for people to believe that "starting over" immediately is the best way to deal with grief. As the quote above illustrates, pets have a way of cheering us up. Doesn't it follow, then, that a new pet would be the best remedy for our feelings of grief?

I have my own thoughts -- and personal experiences -- with this topic, but I'd love to hear what you all think about getting a new pet after a beloved pet dies.  How soon is too soon?

--Laurel

"I think my mom needs help..."

"My dad divorced my mom a few years ago and she was left with little but the family dog.  Our sweet Peppy died a few months ago and I'm really worried about my mom.  She keeps talking about her and still cries when she does.  I think she needs help, but I don't know what to tell her to do."  --Marcia S. (via email)

This is indeed a difficult position for you, Marcia.  It sounds like Peppy was probably your childhood dog, so you must be dealing with your own grief, too.  It's hard to grieve and support someone else with their grief at the same time.  I'm sorry to hear about your loss...

I would certainly need to know a lot more about your mother and her circumstances to tell you if you should really be worried about her or not.  That said, Marcia, I want you to realize that talking about a lost loved one and crying during the conversation is normal, even several months (and sometimes even years, depending on the significance of the relationship and the circumstances of the death) later.

One of my teachers once said that grief is like a mucky reservoir of sludgy gunk.  If you want to "get it all out", you can either drain it all at once with one huge dredging or you can dip into with a tiny bucket, a little bit at a time, day after day, for many, many years.  Either way, eventually, it's not so "gunky" anymore.  The difference is just the method and the time it takes to complete the process.

Grieving is a process.  Some people wail and wallow and get it all out in a relatively short time.  They become preoccupied with doing what it takes for them to get "closure" and  immerse themselves in feeling BAD and then they move on.

Others work hard to "stuff" their grief, trying to stay busy, keeping the feelings a bay, trying to feel better, but always feeling a bit shaky.  Then, when they do have a chance to talk to someone openly about their grief, it "leaks" out with the same intensity and feeling as if the loss had just happened.  And, to them, it feels this way because they haven't ever allowed themselves to really FEEL their sadness, etc.

There's really no right or wrong way to grieve. Your mother is probably just feeling that she doesn't have much of an outlet for her grief, so she trusts you to understand her feelings because she assumes you're feeling them, too, since you both loved Peppy.

My suggestion for you would be to simply listen (over and over, if you can) to her memories, feelings, and tears, without trying to "fix" it for her or trying to "solve" this problem.  She may just need a way to "get it out."  If, as her primary resource, you find yourself becoming too impatient and depleted to listen any longer, suggest that you work together to find additional resources for your mom.  Assure her that you'll still be there for her, but that hearing some ideas from others who understand, too, would be of even greater comfort to her.

There are many good counselors, pet loss support groups, telephone helplines, and websites that deal with pet loss.  You'll find some of them on our website at www.veterinarywisdom.com  You can also ask your veterinarian for some referrals and recommendations for resources in your area.  If your vet is not informed about these, try contacting any pet crematory or cemetaries in your area or even your human funeral homes, hospice programs, or grief counselors.  Sometimes, you have to dig a bit, but help is out there.

If your mother declines further support, you may want to gently begin talking to her about adopting another dog.  No one can take the place of Peppy, but a brand new relationship might be just what she needs to feel less lonely.

What personal wisdom can you share, readers, for this situation?  Ever felt like this yourself or known someone who felt this way?

--Laurel

"I Want a New Dog, but Don't Want to Betray Bertie!"

"Hi.  Bertie was my 13-year-old weimaraner and she died 4 months ago.  I've been doing okay without her, but now I'd like to get a new dog and that has been making me feel awful.  I think Bertie would be sad if she could see me with another dog.  Is it too soon to think about this?"  ---former client, Argus Institute

First, I'm sorry to hear about Bertie's death.  I know how much she meant to you and how much you loved one another.  She helped you through a difficult time in your life and I know you will always feel grateful to her for that.  I also know that, in your mind, that debt you feel you owe her may be translating into a misguided sense of loyalty.  That's what I'd like to talk about here...

When someone dies, it's very common for grievers like you and me to think our grief (both the intensity and duration of our intense feelings like sadness, depression, guilt, etc.) must equal the depth of love and commitment we had for that loved one.  In other words, if we truly, deeply loved someone like you loved Bertie, it would be wrong to transfer that love and our loyalty to someone new too soon.

But, what is too soon?

The truth is, Bertie would want you to have someone in your life to comfort you and provide you with companionship like she did.  And, just because you begin to love another dog, doesn't mean you love Bertie any less.  You can do both!

If you feel ready, start looking for another dog.  And, when you find one, take a moment to "introduce" your new companion to Bertie.  Tell your new dog about Bertie and what she liked to do, what her routines were in your home.  Talk out loud to Bertie and tell her why you got a new dog and that, no matter how you much you come to love this new pet, you will always love her and remember her.

It may sound silly to some of you to do this, but it's really what we all do and think...we just don't tell each other about it because we don't have social conversations about how we handle grief.

Readers, have you faced this situation?  What worked for you if you felt disloyal to a pet who died?

--Laurel

"I feel numb and can't breathe..."

"I unexpectedly lost my cat and haven't felt 'right' for days.  My head is fuzzy and I feel sort of detached from my body...numb and unable to breathe.  Is this normal?"  --Glenda in Alaska

Yep.  Unfortunately, it is normal and it's one of the most upsetting symptoms of grief.

First, I'm so sorry to hear about your cat, Glenda.  I recently lost one of my dogs very suddenly, too, and I understand the sensations you are describing.  They're collectively known as shock.

Shock is a mixture of physical sensations, like numbness and nausea; mental sensations, like disbelief and a feeling of moving about in a dreamlike state; and emotions like guilt and anger.  Shock is triggered by feelings of fear, helplessness, and vulnerability.  Sudden death makes us feel out of control and that feeling can literally take your breath away...

During the shock phase of grief, it's common to relive the events leading up to the death over and over, asking yourself questions like, "what if...?" and "should I have...?"  Feelings of regret, blame, and confusion can be relentless.

I wish I could give you a magic formula that would make the uncomfortable symptoms of shock go away.  Please know that they will subside with time and with the gradual realization that this painful loss really did occur.  Then, grief will take over. Even though feelings of grief can be painful, they are also what helps us heal.  The more you can allow yourself to truly feel sad and to grieve, the more you will heal past the hurt of this loss.

What you're feeling is normal and natural, Glenda.  Please accept a 'virtual hug' from me and remember that this, too, shall pass...

--Laurel

 

Chimpanzees and grief

So, I have become a big fan of Discovery News. I find the most interesting things there!

This story really interested me. It seems that researchers have found that chimpanzees face death and grief in very human-like ways. "From holding death-bed vigils to comforting the dying, chimpanzees face death in human-like ways that indicate their awareness of death is probably much more developed than previously thought."

The researchers observed adult chimps while Pansy, a 50 year old chimp, passed away. "'In the days before Pansy died, the others were notably attentive towards her, and they even altered their routine sleeping arrangements to remain by her, by sleeping on the floor in a room where they don't usually sleep,' lead author James Anderson told Discovery News." They go on to observe that the other chimps were very attentive to Pansy, continually checking to see if she was comfortable. The chimps were also less restful at night, aware of Pansy's situation.

There are many more stories from the researchers in the full story here. It was amazing to read of how these animals cared for the sick and dying, and how they expressed grief after their companions died. It seems, truly, that they understand dying, and grief for their lost companions.

Have you observed your pets reacting to a sick or dying buddy? It's hard to say whether our dogs and cats really understand if their companions are sick or not, but I sure have noticed reactions at the very least. When our Henry was so sick, Ben was very gentle around him. He was seemingly very concerned about Henry. On a different note, when Miss Girl was euthanized, Ben had little or no obvious reaction. We let him see her after she had died. He didn't really respond. (We moved only a couple of days after she died, so the uproar of moving may have masked his reactions.)

--Tammy

Is Grief Different When a Pet Disappears?

"Our family cat was an outdoor kitty and always came around for meals.  She's been missing for over a week now, though, and I'm afraid something bad happened to her. I've lost pets before and seemed to move on fairly quickly, knowing their deaths were somewhat expected, but this one has me hammered!  I feel like I can't let go and I'm wondering if my grief for this loss will be different than in the past?"  Cora T., MN

I'm sorry to hear of your cat's disappearance, Cora.  I think these unexpected losses, especially when there is no body or evidence to show you what happened to your cat, are among the most difficult we all experience.  I've been there myself with a cat who bolted outdoors and most likely was taken by a fox or a coyote.  I'll never know for sure and, of course, even years later, I still think of it and feel a tug of guilt and remorse.  Why?  Because I feel so helpless and, even though it's silly at this point, I occasionally wonder if he's still out there and in need of my help.

When you experience this type of 'ambiguous' loss, there is no real ending...consequently, we don't know when we should stop searching and accept that death has occured so we can proceed with a healthy grief process.  Instead, we sort of keep our grief on 'hold', never quite giving up.  The loss nags at our souls because, on some level, we're thinking we should be doing something to find our pet.

Now, don't misunderstand me.  I think that you should do all you can do to attempt to find your cat or to find out what happened.  Contact the human society and shelters in your area.  Put up signs in your neighborhood and talk to your neighbors.  Sometimes people have seen your cat but don't know it belongs to you.  I had a vet student once whose cat showed up three years after disappearing when a family brought him into the hospital where she worked!

Do what you feel you need to do in order to be able to tell yourself that you really did try to locate your cat.  It may even be helpful to pick a date in the not-so-distant future and set that time as the "turning point" for you and your family.  If you haven't found your kitty by that time, allow yourself to admit that she is most likely gone and allow your grief to progress.  Have a memorial ceremony or mark a spot in your yard where you can honor her memory with a tree, stone marker, etc.

I understand how tough this is to deal with and to hear, Cora.  We all want to believe that a missing pet will somehow return.  But, grief that is bottled up can have all kinds of physical and mental health effects.  It's important to accept the loss and allow grief to be present. Our thoughts go out to you and your family. 

--Laurel

Squirrel protects companion

We often get calls asking about how animals grieve for lost companions. It's a fact that animals become attached to one another as well as their humans. I came across this amazing video of a squirrel protecting a dead companion from some crows.

From Discovery News: "A new video shows how a squirrel reacts when it encounters another dead squirrel, along with some bird predators. It is remarkable how just one squirrel takes on a whole group of large birds, risking its own safety. The squirrel also seems to be examining the body, suggesting that it has at least some awareness of death, which has been very hard for scientists to prove over the years.

Proving awareness is a big deal, because it can suggest self-awareness, empathy and other traits once only attributed to humans."

Have you seen a pet or another animal grieve the loss of a "buddy"?

--Tammy

"It's Okay To Cry...You Want To Know Why?"

I'd like to tell you about a sweet and burley yellow labrador with the personality of a hero and the heart of a locomotive. He gave so much in his 12 years of life on this planet and I feel that it's important to honor him.

We have had a client for over 10 years now that has a neurological disease. He's a fantastic guy who's intelligence and humor sometimes gets obscured by his illness. He has an amazing spirit and grace about him but he would tell you that a lot of his accomplishments are due to one single furry friend...his assistance dog. This amazing dog made his life easier, more accessible, and always broke the ice when making new friends. He not only provided physical assistance, but he provided the emotional support needed to negotiate life with a devastating disease.

Sadly, this beloved companion developed cancer and stopped responding to treatment. He was euthanized last week and afterwards, the client started to cry and apologized for it. In a respectful way, Steve reassured him that it was okay to cry and express his grief...in fact that it was NECESSARY to cry and release those emotions. The minute that Steve gave permission for emotions, it was like the floodgates opening unabated. This man's grief was profound and Steve and I take comfort in knowing that he was able to let out some of this intense pain.

We had just recently heard from this client (he has a new assistance dog). He thanked us for allowing him to express his sadness without us getting uncomfortable or "weird" around him. This situation reminded me of how important it is for veterinary professionals to develop a comfort level with loss and grief. By doing that, they can allow the clients the freedom to experience all of their emotions, even the really intense ones.

How about you? Have any of you known a veterinarian or pet hospital that does a really good job supporting emotions? What kinds of things would you look for in finding someone like this? I'm curious as to your thoughts.

--Dana

P.S. Please join me in taking a moment to honor a dog that gave absolutely everything he had...he was truly, a special soul.

A pet bucket list?

This story brought tears to my eyes as I read it. I imagine it may do the same for you.

Hudson the dog may have been the only pet to have a "bucket list" of his own. (A bucket list, if you don't know, is a list of things you want to do before you die.) After Hudson was diagnosed with a cancer that would take his life, his family created a bucket list of things they thought Hudson should get to do with the time he had left. Hudson's pet parents sat down with their human children to explain that Hudson was very sick and would have only a short time left with their family. Together, they thought up things that they thought Hudson would want to do.

Many things on the list were things that Hudson tried to "sneak" but wasn't actually allowed. He got to ride in the car with his head out the window (not allowed!). He got to have his own bowl of popcorn (and his own sleeping bag) during family movie night. (He would normally have to sneak popcorn bites.) Maggie, his human sibling, decided he needed 100 extra hugs and kisses every day. And, for his last meal before his family had to have him euthanized? Doughnuts.

After Hudson died, Maggie decided she wanted to raise some money in his name to give to cancer research for other dogs. She made friendship bracelets out of embroidery thread and sold them (with permission) outside of her school. She raised $1300 and donated it to UCDavis Veterinary School. Maggie wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up.

Do you have a personal bucket list? Have you ever thought of making a list like this for your pets? What would be on a bucket list for your dog, cat, or bunny? I think this is a really wonderful story of how one family coped with the grief of losing their dog. They made the last few weeks they had with him very special! (Full story and photos here.)

--Tammy