Pet Loss & Grief Support

We offer some pet loss articles and healing poetry

Pet Loss Articles:

• Pre-Loss Bereavement and the Power of Bargaining  and Defining Quality of Life                      by Mora Anderson Allen
• The Fourth Day by Martin Scot Kosins
• Mourning for Your Pet by Reverend Sandra Shaw
• Breaking the Power of Guilt by Moira Anderson Allen
• Pet Loss by Reverend Sandra Shaw                        and The Journey by Crystal Ward Kent
• Dragonfly Story and "Children and Pet Loss" by Marty Tousley 

Pet Poems:

• A Doggie Prayer
• Remember Our Love
• Pet Heaven
• The Greatest Gift
• I Am Free
• I’m Still Here
• Last Night
• Shadow’s Song

  Pre-Loss Bereavement and the Power of Bargaining

by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.

There is a stage of grief that one hears very little, if anything, about. It's the hidden stage, a stage that friends and family may have difficulty understanding. It's a stage when people are most likely to ask why you are grieving -- because your pet hasn't even died yet!

It's the stage I call "pre-loss bereavement." It begins when you realize, with absolutely no wiggle-room for argument, that your pet is going to die. You don't know when, but you know loss is coming. It may not even be coming soon; your pet may have weeks, months, even a year or more of life ahead. But you know that you have reached "the beginning of the end."

It may begin with a diagnosis of a final, incurable disease or condition. When an older cat is diagnosed with borderline kidney failure, for example, you know that you may be able to take steps to manage the problem and keep "full failure" at bay for a time-- but you're never going to be able to accomplish a "cure." Or, it may begin when you look at your pet with "newly opened eyes," and notice changes in its health or condition that have been taking place slowly over time. When a pet gradually loses weight, for example, it's easy to overlook subtle, ongoing changes to its appearance, because you never see a sudden, dramatic alteration. Then, one day, you look at your pet and realize that you can see every rib, every bump of its spine.

Whatever the trigger, pre-loss bereavement begins when you realize not just intellectually, but emotionally, that you are going to lose your pet. It is something you have always "known," from the day you brought your pet home -- but now it is not simply known, but FELT, deeply, keenly, painfully. Now, you may find yourself in something of a "pet loss limbo" -- you begin to grieve the loss that is coming, but there is no "closure" to your grief. You can't "get over it" because the loss hasn't actually happened yet. And you know that things are only going to get worse before they get better.

This is the period in which you are likely to experience all the classic Kubler-Ross "stages" of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. Denial may have preceded this stage, vanishing like a toxic bubble the day you accept and acknowledge the diagnosis or changes in your pet -- or, it may resurface from time to time, as you try to convince yourself that your pet's condition isn't really THAT bad. Anger can come at odd times -- when, for example, you think you are taking your pet to the vet for the last time, and manage to psyche yourself up to make the most painful decision, only to have an unexpected "reprieve." Yes, of course you are glad to bring your pet home again -- but you may feel a twinge of irrational anger at having had to go through all that for "nothing", only to have to go through it again. Depression comes and goes as you contemplate a future without your pet. But the most common reaction to this stage is likely to be bargaining -- bargaining with your pet, your vet, yourself, or your higher power for ANYTHING that will extend (or improve) the life of your pet.

I know this stage well, because I'm experiencing it yet again. Two years ago, my 15-year-old cat, Nani, was diagnosed with borderline kidney disease. At the time, she seemed to be deteriorating rapidly; I doubted she had more than a few months to live. And so I entered the "bargaining" stage (or, for some of us, the "begging" stage).

But what could I bargain FOR? I knew I could not hope for a cure. We weren't sure how old Nani was, as she was a young adult when we adopted her, but we knew she was at least 15 and possibly 16. While cats occasionally live to 20 or longer, such lifespans are rare, and not likely in a cat already suffering from kidney disease. So what could I ask (and pray) for that might have some chance of success?

I chose to ask for "time." I realized, looking at my wasting-thin kitty, that Nani had been suffering from a certain amount of "attention neglect" over the previous year. We had recently undergone a stressful move and job change, cramming ourselves, our goods and three cats into a very small duplex. Nani had not been getting the same amount of lap time, cuddle time, and sleep-on-your-face time that she had enjoyed previously. I felt a surge of guilt; if only I could have some TIME to make that up to her. Give me time, I asked, to make sure that in her final days, she feels loved; give me time to give her the attention and cuddling that means so much to her. My part of the "bargain," of course, was to provide those things! Miraculously, time was given. In 1999, I doubted Nani would survive six months; she has already survived for two years. Each time she seemed to slip toward the edge, a change of diet would bring about an amazing rally. Even though she lost nearly 1/6 of her original weight, and underwent surgery for a lymphoma, she has hung in there.

More importantly, she has had "time" to enjoy renewed attention. She has had two more years to curl up on whomever is resting (or sleeping) in the recliner (and if you're "resting," a curled-up, purring Nani is almost certain to put you to sleep). She has had time to play with the other cats, and even to chase 18-pound Brisco down the hall if he forgets his manners. She has had time to watch the birds at the bird-feeder, and the squirrels at the squirrel-feeder. Her one disappointment is that we no longer allow her on the top shelf of the closet, for fear she might jump down and injure herself.

This past week, we've looked at Nani and come to the conclusion that "time" may be running out. Her weight loss has accelerated, and a reaction to a prescribed medication made her seriously ill. Though she has managed yet another rally, we can see that she is slower, stiffer, weaker, thinner. We suspect that within a month, the decision will have to be made (though she could surprise us yet).

We face this prospect with acceptance, however. We have a peace in our hearts about what must come, because we have had a chance, in the last two years, to make sure that Nani's last days were as happy and comfortable as we could make them. Despite the grief of the "pet loss limbo" period, we have the comfort of knowing that death didn't take us by surprise; we weren't left regretting the things we hadn't done, or wishing that we'd had a chance to do things differently. We kept the first half of our bargain (making life better for Nani), and now we face the second half: Letting Nani go.

While some psychologists consider bargaining to be nothing more than a mental game we play to avoid or ignore grief, I believe it can be genuinely helpful -- provided one is realistic about the process. If you find yourself in "pet loss limbo," you may find that "bargaining" is an effective way to ease your passage from grief to acceptance. Here are some tips on "healthy" bargaining:

1. Be realistic about your pet's condition. Don't expect a complete, miraculous cure; you'll only be disappointed. Instead, look for ways to work within and around that condition to extend and improve your pet's life.
2. Focus your efforts on your pet's well-being, not your own. Don't try to make a "bargain" with God or the universe just to keep yourself from feeling pain, or to postpone that pain. Instead, use this time to seek ways to improve your pet's life and comfort level. By doing so, you'll enhance your own ability to accept the inevitable.
3. Use whatever time your pet has left to take care of "unfinished business." If you haven't spent as much time with your pet as you'd like, spend it now. If there are special treats or experiences that your pet particularly enjoys, use this time to provide them. The best way to spend this time is to ensure that, when your pet dies, you aren't left with regrets and self-recriminations.
4. Seek a balance between your pet's health and its general comfort and happiness. Often, for example, a pet may loathe the "special diet" that is prolonging its life. If your pet starts losing weight because it refuses to eat a prescription diet, you may not be doing it any favors by withholding its preferred foods. Similarly, if life-prolonging treatments are more stressful or painful than the disease they're designed to cure, you may need to make a decision about "quality" of life vs. "length" of life.
5. Keep your side of the "bargain." If you've asked for "time" to give your pet extra love and attention, and you miraculously RECEIVE that time, use it! It may, indeed, be a miracle.
6. Be prepared to take "no" for an answer. I firmly believe in the power of prayer, but not all prayers are answered as we would wish. If you seek to "bargain" in the last days of your pet's life, you must accept the possibility that you won't get what you're asking for. If and when that occurs, don't waste time and emotional energy blaming yourself or the universe for failing to respond to your wishes.
7. Understand that a "bargain" isn't going to change the final outcome. If your pet has a terminal illness, you may gain the gift of time -- but it is a temporary gift. Use that time, not only to improve your pet's quality of life, but to come to terms with the inevitability of loss. You may find that this precious gift of time is just what you need to work through many of the other emotions of grief, so that you can face the final loss of your pet with a measure of acceptance and peace.

Copyright © 2001 by Moira Allen.

Defining Quality of Life

by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.

Whenever one considers the painful choice of euthanasia, one is always advised to take the pet's "quality of life" into account. But what is "quality of life"? How can you determine whether a pet is still experiencing a good quality of life -- or whether its level of suffering is no longer acceptable?

That decision is individual to every pet, and every owner. Following, however, are some factors to consider when attempting to assess a pet's quality of life:

Mobility. An older pet often loses mobility. A dog may no longer be able to climb stairs or hop into a car; a cat may lose the ability to jump onto a bed or chair. At this stage, however, your pet may still be healthy and happy, and you can easily make accommodations for its reduced ability.

If, however, your pet can barely move, that's another matter. Can your pet get to its feet without assistance? Can it sit or lie down without collapsing? Can it walk? Can it handle basic functions, such as squatting on a litterbox? Does it whimper or growl if you attempt to move it? I've seen dogs so crippled with hip dysplasia that they literally had to drag their immobilized hindquarters across the floor; this hardly represents the "quality of life" I want for my pets.

Appetite/Eating Ability. Is your pet able to eat? Can it consume enough food (or digest that food) to remain properly nourished? Does it regurgitate immediately after eating? Is it unable to chew, or does it have difficulty swallowing? Does it enjoy eating, or do you have to coax every bite past its lips? A pet that is unable to eat or gain sufficient nourishment from its food is on a slow road to starvation.

Breathing. A number of illnesses, including cancer, can affect the lungs. When a condition causes the lungs to fill with fluid or foreign matter (such as cancer cells), a pet quickly loses its ability to breathe easily or comfortably. You'll notice that your pet may seem to be panting, or that it is laboring to breathe; often, you'll see its stomach or flanks "pumping" as it can no longer breathe with just the chest muscles. It may also experience wheezing attacks. If such symptoms occur, ask for a chest x-ray to determine the condition of the lungs. If the problem is due to an allergy, infection, or asthma, medication may help; if it is due to fluids that are the result of cancer or a heart condition, however, little can be done.

Discomfort. It can be difficult to determine whether a pet is in pain, as animals instinctively mask discomfort as much as possible. You can pick up clues, however, by watching its posture and expression. Does your pet's face appear furrowed or "worried", rather than relaxed and happy? Does it sit hunched or "hunkered" and tense, rather than relaxing and lying down? Lack of mobility can also be a sign of pain.

Another indication of pain is "denning." An animal in pain will seek a safe place where it won't be disturbed by other animals. If your pet has forsaken its usual territories or sleeping places for the back of the closet or a spot under the bed, this may be a sign that it is pain or distress and feels vulnerable.

A more obvious indication of pain is a pet's reaction to touch. If your pet responds to touch by flinching away, hissing, snarling, or even snapping, this is a clear indication of pain. Sometimes this can indicate a localized pain; if the pet doesn't want to be touched at all, however, it may indicate a broader discomfort.

Incontinence. Many pet owners feel terribly guilty over the natural annoyance they feel when a pet becomes incontinent. They feel they should be more loving, more patient. Incontinence, however, can also be stressful for the pet. As a basic survival mechanism, animals learn not to "mess where they sleep" (for the smell would draw attention to the location of one's den). When an animal can no longer control when or where it urinates or defecates, you can be sure it is not happy with the situation.

Mental Capacity. Older pets occasionally develop signs of diminished mental capacity. They may seem to "forget" things, such as where a toy is located or what a command means. Such a pet may become confused by its surroundings, and this confusion can develop into fear. (In some cases, this "confusion" may be the result of hearing or vision loss, to which both you AND your pet can often adapt.)

Happiness. Determining whether your pet is "enjoying" life is certainly a subjective decision. However, if you have been a keen observer of your pet's behavior and attitude during its lifetime, you are likely to be able to determine when it no longer seems "happy." You'll know when it no longer seems to take any pleasure from its food, its toys, its surroundings -- and most of all, from contact with you and the rest of its family. Most pets are tremendously easy to please; when it no longer becomes possibly to raise a purr or a tail-wag, you can be fairly certain that your pet is receiving little joy from life.

Response to Treatment. When a pet becomes ill, our natural response is to provide whatever treatment we can. This may mean tests, medications, even surgery. But drugs have side effects, repeated trips to the vet cause emotional distress, and more invasive treatments take a physical toll. Eventually, we may conclude that our efforts to treat a pet's illness are more stressful to the pet than the condition itself -- and that our efforts to save a pet's life are actually diminishing, rather than enhancing, the quality of that life.

Making a Decision

Assessing a pet's quality of life is an ongoing process, not a one-time decision. Initially, we're likely to attempt to compensate for the problems we see. Pain medication may relieve a pet's discomfort and improve its mobility. A change in diet may improve a pet's appetite or provide better nutrition. We may resolve that we're willing to clean up after a pet and carry it wherever it needs to go, for as long as necessary. But eventually such measures will cease to be effective. The process of assessing "quality of life" is really a question of determining (and deciding) when that point has been reached -- and what you intend to do next.

It is often tempting, at this point, to postpone a decision still longer by deciding to "let nature take its course." Before choosing that course of action (or inaction), however, it's important to understand that, as a pet owner, you have been thwarting the "course of nature" from the beginning. By ensuring that your pet has food and shelter and is protected from predators, you have already guaranteed that nature will not take its course. By providing medical treatment, you have prolonged the life of your pet far beyond what it could have expected if left to "nature." In nature, an animal that becomes too ill to obtain food or protect itself will perish quickly, though not necessarily comfortably.

Nor does nature necessarily offer an "easy" death even if you choose to let it "take its course" in the comfort of your home. An animal that cannot breathe easily, cannot eat or digest food properly, cannot control its bodily functions, and can scarcely move or enjoy human contact because of pain, is hardly dying "comfortably."

This is really what the "quality of life" issue is all about. By usurping nature's role throughout the life of our pets, we must sometimes also accept its role in determining (and bringing about) the death of a pet. To accept this, we may also have to accept that, in some cases, the quality of life we're really trying to protect is our own: That we're allowing our pet to suffer out of a desire to avoid the anguish we know that we will experience when it dies. And that, ultimately, is the most unselfish act of love we can offer: To end a pet's suffering, we must choose to accept our own.

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The Fourth Day

by Martin Scot Kosins

If you ever love an animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember.

The first is a day, blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend.

You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter ... simply because something in its eyes reached your heart.

But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or frontroom - and when you feel it brush against you for the first time - it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through the many years to come.

The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later.

It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth.

You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy.

And you will see sleep where you once saw activity.

So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet - and you may add a pill or two to her food.

And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness.

And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.

And on this day - if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be faced with making a decision of your own - on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit.

But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you - you will feel as alone as a single star in the dark night sky.

If you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or human friends will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.

But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joyfilled years, you may find that a soul - a bit smaller in size than your own - seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come.

And at moments when you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush against your leg - very very lightly.

And looking down at the place where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lay - you will remember those three significant days.

The memory will most likely be painful, and leave an ache in your heart -

As time passes the ache will come and go as if it has a life of its own.

You will both reject it and embrace it, and it may confuse you.

If you reject it, it will depress you.

If you embrace it, it will deepen you.

Either way, it will still be an ache.

But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when - along with the memory of your pet - and piercing through the heaviness in your heart -there will come a realization that belongs only to you.

It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost.

This realization takes the form of a Living Love -

Like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow - and be there for us to remember.

It is a Love we have earned.

It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go -

And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live.

It is a Love which is ours alone -

And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets -

It is a Love that we will always possess.

Martin Scot Kosins is the author of Maya's First Rose, published by Open Sky Books.

"The Fourth Day" originally appeared as the Foreword for Pet Loss by Nieburg and Fischer, published by HarperPerennial.

Reprinted with permission of Martin Scot Kosins. 3/7/08

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Mourning for Your Pet

by Reverend Sandra Shaw, O.S.F.

Pet Grief is Not Silly and There is No Need for Shame or Embarrassment

Over and over again I hear a version of the following apologetic plea: "Chaplain Shaw, I feel so silly and no one in my family understands why I am feeling so lost over the death of my pet. I am embarrassed to tell anyone. I know it was just a dogs"

Stop right there. You should never apologize for your feelings, no matter what they are. And certainly we must never apologize for love. To repeat the phrase that others might have said to you, "It was just a dog [or cat or horse or bird]" is to betray your own heart and the deep bond of love you felt for that wonderful animal.

YOU know it was not just a dog. You just need validation of your truest feelings: that you lost a best friend, you lost a family member, you lost a child, you lost a companion that is irreplaceable. Your heart is in mourning for this loss. It does not matter to your heart that your friend and companion, this family member, had fur or feathers, walked on four legs or flew with wings. Your heart only knows that a loved one has died.

A time of mourning is not silly. A time of mourning is nothing to be ashamed of. A time of mourning is nothing to be embarrassed about. Mourning deserves great respect from your family, friends and colleagues. When we acknowledge the mourning that a person is going through, they are relieved of a burden. To feel that we need to hide our grief puts a lot of pressure on us. When others understand, that burden is lifted and instead of carrying a weight, we find others ready to help lift our load.

By coming forth and telling others we are in mourning, we also help them to acknowledge their own losses. Support groups at the workplace can even result and new friends made. Simply by standing up and explaining you are mourning the loss of a beloved pet will help you and those around you. For the few who respond with thoughtless comments like "Get over it. It was just a dog," you can ignore them with the confidence that what you are going through is your right, your need and the duty to your own heart, for you have loved and been loved in return. Those kinds of comments come only from people who have never known this kind of love. You have been blessed. It is a Good Mourning.

Coping With Loss

As you move about your day, remember to be good to yourself. Your system is still somewhat in shock. You will find your daily routine will change. The daily chores, routines and times together with our pet filled our days. There will be an emptiness around those times and this can create difficult moments.

One of the greatest coping mechanisms we have as human beings is the ability to cry. Crying is not a sign of weakness. It is rather a sign of good mental health. When we do not cry, we are not reaching those deep areas within where our feelings lie. Coping literally washes out our grief, our sorrow and sadness. After a good cry, we feel cleansed of those pent up feelings. Crying is needed by the body, mind and heart and is part of the process of healing.

Another coping mechanism is to talk it out. Unfortunately we still live in a society not completely understanding of pet grief, so the same person who was understanding when you needed to talk about grandma's death might turn a deaf ear when it comes to talking about the passing of your your poodle. It is not met with the same level of understanding or respect. So seek out a friend or relative who understands and is there for you. And you can call Chaplain of the Pets. We are there for this reason and will listen. You need to talk it out.

Keep some of your routines going.

If you enjoyed a daily walk in the park with your dog at 4 in the afternoon everyday, KEEP WALKING! At that same time, pick up your dog's leash and take that walk each day for a while. You will know when you no longer need to keep the routine. You might just find that it becomes that living part of your pet that remains with you and you will keep on doing it for years to come!

Talk to your pet in Heaven.

While you are on that walk, or sitting in your favorite chair where your cat used to jump on your lap, talk to your pet. I know that they are indeed living spirit and can hear you. But even if you do not believe that, the act of talking to your pet and pouring your heart out, can be a very good way of coping with their absence. What you find yourself telling your pet will become very healing. Think of them as still walking with you or sitting with you, and tell them how much you miss them. Tell them about all of the fun times that you enjoyed together. Tell them how it made you feel to walk in the door at the end of the day to find them waiting for you excitedly. Tell them why you picked them out of the litter or how they came to be with you. Go over aloud all the things that they brought to your life. This can be a very healing thing to do and you might enjoy it more than you imagine.

Visiting animals in shelters for therapeutic help.

Although you are not ready to take the step for a new pet while your heart is mending, you can begin to reach out with your love bit by bit in visiting your local animal shelter or humane society. Many of those animals are grieving and feel lost and alone just like you do. It can do you some wonderful good to get out and see them, talk to them and just extend your hand and voice to those who would just like a pat. You can go there and come home again without the responsibility of caring for another animal right now while you heal. But it can be a wonderful outing for you and a very healing activity. When you are feeling up to it and if you have the time, you might want to make it a regular habit. Who knows! By the time you have worked through your grief, you might have established a bond with an animal in the shelter who pulls at your heart and be on your way to love again!

Why it Hurts So Badly

You hurt so badly because you have a broken heart. It takes time to mend. But it will mend and the pain will fade. You are homesick for your beloved friend and you know you will never see each other again in this life. This hurts. To become separated for a time in any way from our loved ones can cause us great anxiety and stress. To be permanently separated through death is at first unthinkable and unacceptable, but it is the sudden reality you now face and that adjustment takes time.

As mentioned previously, it is as if you have an open wound and your heart is torn apart. A physical injury like that takes weeks to months to heal. Our psyches are no different. The workplace may only allow you 3 days bereavement leave even for a human loved one. We are expected to be up and running on all cylinders immediately following the funeral. 100 years ago we were expected to mourn for a year. This was actually a very wise practice and observance, for it honored what our ancestors knew and understood before we became so technologically smart. They knew that the human mind and spirit needed time to recover from loss and this was accepted and honored. When people said that he or she was in mourning, it was understood that the mourner was under special circumstances and needed to be cared for gently. The mourner was not expected to go to events and participate in activities for which they might not be ready. The year was needed. It still is.

We tend to heal more quickly if we can tend to our grief and mourn out loss without the pressure of "getting over it" coming from our circle of family and friends. We tend to heal more quickly when we allow ourselves time to grieve, when we MAKE the time and TAKE the time to move through this process. We tend to heal more quickly when we take positive action to embrace our grief and do something in honor of our pet's life. We tend to heal more quickly when we do not deny our feelings.

It hurts so badly because our hearts have cracked open and the love is pouring out in a bucket of tears. Cry a river of tears if you need to and fill that river with your the tears which will carry your raft to those peaceful and tranquil waters at the end of the journey.

Reverend Sandra Shaw, O.S.F.
CHAPLAIN OF THE PETS

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Breaking the Power of Guilt

by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.

If any emotion rules supreme when a pet dies, it is guilt. No matter what the circumstances of our loss, guilt is there, grabbing us by the throat. It haunts our days, ruins our sleep, and tarnishes our memories. Often, guilt goes beyond the loss itself; we may start to feel guilty for just about everything.

Guilt on the Rampage

If a pet dies through an accident or moment of carelessness, guilt is quick to follow. Perhaps someone wasn't careful about opening a door, and the pet ran into the street to be hit by a car. Perhaps someone fed the pet a hazardous treat -- a splintery bone or forbidden bit of chocolate. Perhaps someone overlooked a hazard -- an electric cord, or a bit of string. When something like this happens, guilt closes in quickly. If only I had known... If only I had been more careful... If only I had come home sooner... If only I had been watching... The final memories of the pet become a litany of failure.

If a pet dies of an unexpected illness, the litany is often similar. Why didn't I notice the symptoms sooner? Why didn't I visit the vet immediately? Why didn't I get a second opinion? How could I have let it go so long, been so blind, done so little?

Euthanasia is the grand master of guilt. No matter how certain we are that we are doing what is best for the pet, few pet owners actually feel comfortable with this decision. Very few can walk away from the vet's office without nagging doubts, without wondering what the pet felt or thought in that final moment, without asking whether we should have waited longer or tried harder. Many of us feel guilty of literally murdering a family member.

But even if there is nothing in the pet's final hours to trigger a guilty response, we are not off the hook. If we can't find something in the pet's death to feel guilty about, we'll find it in the pet's life. If only I had spent more time with her... If only I had given him more attention... If only I hadn't pushed her off my lap, if only I hadn't ignored those pleading eyes, if only I hadn't been so busy... Before long, we convince ourselves that we were abominable pet owners who made our companions' lives miserable. And now it's too late. We cannot make amends, redeem ourselves...

Why do we feel this way?

We are believers in cause and effect. When something goes wrong, we want to know why. How did it happen? What went wrong? Could it have been prevented -- and if so, how? Who is responsible? What could/should have been done differently? Rarely can we acknowledge that there are no answers to these questions. Rarely can we say, "no one was at fault; it simply happened." Rarely can we accept that nothing could have been changed or done differently.

This reaction is intensified by the profound sense of responsibility we feel toward our pets. Pets occupy a similar role to very small children: No matter what happens, WE are responsible. We can never expect our pets to understand why they shouldn't run into the street, chew on the electric cord, or filch scraps from the trash. We are always their guardians and protectors. And so, when something happens, we view ourselves as responsible for THAT as well -- and it is only a short step from feeling "responsible" to feeling "guilty."

From Guilt to Redemption

A little bit of guilt, for the right reasons, can be healthy. Next time, we'll vaccinate; next time, we won't feed the pet bones or scraps. Next time, we'll consult the vet immediately about that odd behavior change.

A lot of guilt, however, is not so healthy. Left unchecked, it can prevent us from seeking the joy of a new pet -- and can even ruin our lives. I've spoken with pet owners who have suffered from guilt for years. So if you can't shake the sense of being "to blame" for your loss, you could be in for a long, rough ride -- unless you choose to change direction. Notice that I said "choose." While we can't always control how we feel, we CAN control how to respond to those emotions. We can choose whether to control those emotions, or whether to allow them to control us.

Nor is guilt simply an emotion. At its core, guilt is a belief -- a conviction that we have done wrong and must suffer for it. The only way to break that conviction is to change what we choose to believe. Here are some choices that can help you take the upper hand over guilt.

1. Choose not to rehearse guilt. Do you find yourself repeating the same guilty thoughts over and over again? They won't go away by themselves. You must choose to make them stop. First, catch yourself. When you find yourself wandering down that painful mental path, put up a mental stop sign. You might choose a physical action, such as snapping your fingers, to remind yourself to change direction. Then, deliberately focus on something else, such as your plans for tomorrow. Focusing on something positive in the future is a conscious reminder that there is more to your life than
   negatives from the past.
2. Choose to accept what cannot be changed. A self-imposed "penance" for past mistakes accomplishes nothing. It doesn't change, or make up for, the past; it simply ruins your future. Chances are that you've already changed anything that NEEDED to be changed (such as vaccinating your other pets). Can you change anything else? Can you undo what was done? Can you change the outcome of your actions? If the answer is "no," choose to accept that
   answer. Accept that the only thing you can change now is your future.
3. Choose balance. Guilt keeps us focused on the times we imagine we failed -- the times we were "too busy" to take a pet for a walk, or play with it, or cuddle it. It blinds us to all the other times when we WEREN'T too busy. So the next time your mind drifts into those unhappy thoughts, choose to refocus. Actively remind yourself of the good times, the times when you were, indeed a responsible and caring pet owner. (Chances are, that was MOST of the time.) Flip through your photo albums. Write down a list of the things you did for and with your pet. FORCE yourself to remember what went right. Recognize that there is, and always has been, a balance between your failures and your successes. No, you weren't 100% perfect. But neither were you 100% flawed.
4. Choose forgiveness. Forgiveness is not some abstract religious concept.It is a rock-bottom necessity in any relationship. Think about it. Could you have had a relationship with your pet, if you couldn't not "forgive" the puddles, the torn drapes, the gnawed belongings, the broken heirlooms? Pet owners who can't forgive don't remain pet owners for very long. And it worked the other way as well: How often did your pet "forgive" you for coming home late, or ignoring it, or yelling at it? Forgiveness has always been at the foundation of your relationship with your pet, and now you need to make it the foundation of your healing. Each time guilt tries to remind you of some past mistake, acknowledge that mistake -- and forgive it. If you did wrong, fine. It's done, it's over, and it's time to move forward. Treat yourself with the same degree of love and acceptance that your pet gave you. Only then will you be able to heal and love again.

Pet owners who "don't care" will never experience the pangs of guilt. Only caring, responsible pet owners go through this agony. The trouble is, too much guilt can prevent you from becoming a caring, responsible pet owner AGAIN.

The world has enough people who don't care what mistakes they make. It doesn't have enough pet owners who DO care -- who choose to learn from their mistakes and move on to make a difference in yet another pet's life. Don't let guilt keep you locked in a lifetime of misery. Choose to forgive, to love, and to move forward. The world needs you!

Copyright © 2000 by Moira Allen.
For other pet loss articles and books written by Moira Anderson,

please visit: www.pet-loss.net

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Pet Loss

By Reverend Sandra Shaw

Loss takes many forms. We can lose our human and pet loved ones through death, but we can also lose our homes, jobs, careers, possessions, dreams and hopes. Everything in this world can be taken at any given moment from such unpredictable and natural events such as fire, wind or water. What was once solid under our feet can be washed away in an instant, both physically and metaphorically.

So what can we hang onto? We can hang onto that which is truly lasting. And that is the love of the heart. Love is not dependent upon anything in the physical world. We know that is true because we continue to love those who are no longer in this world and now adorn another. We continue to love that which is created by the heart, for the heart is the only true substance. Everything else is temporary. But love is not. And this is the greatest gift our animals teach us. They love us unconditionally, non-stop, without regard to anything we do or say, regardless of our position in life, our bank account, our possessions, our neighborhood or the value of our things. They show love to us continually in the same way whether we are in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, truly, until death do us part. They love without seeking anything and they bring joy without reservation. They are not critical, they do not judge and they do not turn away from us no matter what our mood or problem. They are loyal and true until the end.Anyone who has had a deep connection with a pet knows that this is true.

No matter what trials we face , we can learn from our pets this ability to live in love, express love and remain in love throughout our day. We can hang onto this beautiful lesson, which even ripens into richer fruit after our beloved pet has passed away. As time passes, the memories become more precious and the pictures more sweet, and we begin to understand the great blessing that they gave us with their life. We begin to more deeply depend on that which is truly real and does not die - Love. We begin to understand that this is what we seek in the false hopes and promises of material things. We would give anything we own - any of it and all of it - to have those loved ones with us in the physical world again. We have no possession that has the value of the love we have experienced.

But it does not die. Live in that love. Carry the love that your pet gave you into your day and spread it to others with your smile, your compassion, your understanding and your strength. Become the living love that your pet expressed to you. That is what it is for. It is to continue on. That is your pet's gift to you and that does not die. We can lose everything and everyone in our lives. We cannot lose the love. That remains alive and vital. So don't put it away and feel you have to "get on with your life" in the way people suggest. That way is not of the heart. Get on with your life in honor of the love you have been given. Remember it, call it up, use it, become inspired by it, share it, and your grief will turn into active, living loving energy that will enhance your days.

When you live in love, you will love to live. This is the lesson from our sweet and dear pets, who with great innocence remind us that love is all there really is.

Blessings from your pets in Heaven and Reverend Sandra Shaw

Reverend Sandra Shaw, O.S.F.
CHAPLAIN OF THE PETS
Tending to the Healing of the Grieving Heart
Through Compassion, Empathy, Comfort and Grace
 

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The Dragonfly Story

Down below the surface of a quiet pond lived a little colony of water bugs. They were a happy colony, living far away from the sun. For many months they were very busy, scurrying over the soft mud on the bottom of the pond. They did notice that every once in awhile one of their colony seemed to lose interest in going about. Clinging to the stem of a pond lily it gradually moved out of sight and was seen no more.

"Look!" said one of the water bugs to another. "one of our colony is climbing up the lily stalk. Where do you think she is going?" Up, up, up it slowly went....Even as they watched, the water bug disappeared from sight. Its friends waited and waited but it didn't return...

"That's funny!" said one water bug to another. "Wasn't she happy here?" asked a second... "Where do you suppose she went?" wondered a third.

No one had an answer. They were greatly puzzled. Finally one of the water bugs, a leader in the colony, gathered its friends together. "I have an idea". "The next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk must promise to come back and tell us where he or she went and why."

"We promise", they said solemnly.

One spring day, not long after, the very water bug who had suggested the plan found himself climbing up the lily stalk. Up, up, up, he went. Before he knew what was happening, he had broke through the surface of the water and fallen onto the broad, green lily pad above.

When he awoke, he looked about with surprise. He couldn't believe what he saw. A startling change had come to his old body. His movement revealed four silver wings and a long tail. Even as he struggled, he felt an impulse to move his wings...The warmth of the sun soon dried the moisture from the new body. He moved his wings again and suddenly found himself up above the water. He had become a dragonfly!!

Swooping and dipping in great curves, he flew through the air. He felt exhilarated in the new atmosphere. By and by the new dragonfly lighted happily on a lily pad to rest. Then it was that he chanced to look below to the bottom of the pond. Why, he was right above his old friends, the water bugs! There they were scurrying around, just as he had been doing some time before.

The dragonfly remembered the promise: "the next one of us who climbs up the lily stalk will come back and tell where he or she went and why." Without thinking, the dragonfly darted down. Suddenly he hit the surface of the water and bounced away. Now that he was a dragonfly, he could no longer go into the water...

"I can't return!" he said in dismay. "At least, I tried. But I can't keep my promise. Even if I could go back, not one of the water bugs would know me in my new body. I guess I'll just have to wait until they become dragonflies too. Then they'll understand what has happened to me, and where I went."

And the dragonfly winged off happily into its wonderful new world of sun and air.......

Thank you God, for the story of the water bugs and the dragonflies.

Please remember________who left the pond we live in...and remember me...

The Dragonfly Story The Dragonfly Story

The Journey

by Crystal Ward Kent

When you bring a pet into your life, you begin a journey — a journey that will bring you more love and devotion than you have ever known, yet also test your strength and courage.

If you allow, the journey will teach you many things, about life, about yourself, and most of all, about love. You will come away changed forever, for one soul cannot touch another without leaving its mark.

Along the way, you will learn much about savoring life’s simple pleasures — jumping in leaves, snoozing in the sun, the joy of puddles, and even the satisfaction of a good scratch behind the ears.

If you spend much time outside, you will be taught how to truly experience every element, for no rock, leaf or log will go unexamined, no rustling bush will be overlooked, and even the very air will be inhaled, pondered, and noted as being full of valuable information. Your pace may be slower — except when heading home to the food dish — but you will become a better naturalist, having been taught by an expert in the field.

Too many times we hike on automatic pilot, our goal being to complete the trail rather than enjoy the journey. We miss the details — the colorful mushrooms on the rotting log, the honeycomb in the old maple snag, the hawk feather caught on a twig. Once we walk as a dog does, we discover a whole new world. We stop; we browse the landscape; we kick over leaves, peek in tree holes, look up, down, all around. And we learn what any dog knows: that nature has created a marvelously complex world that is full of surprises, that each cycle of the seasons brings ever-changing wonders, each day an essence all its own.

Even from indoors you will find yourself more attuned to the world around you. You will find yourself watching summer insects collecting on a screen (How bizarre they are! How many kinds there are!), or noting the flicker and flash of fireflies through the dark. You will stop to observe the swirling dance of windblown leaves, or sniff the air after a rain. It does not matter that there is no objective in this; the point is in the doing, in not letting life’s most important details slip by.

You will find yourself doing silly things that your pet-less friends might not understand: spending thirty minutes in the grocery aisle looking for the cat food brand your feline must have, buying dog birthday treats, or driving around the block an extra time because your pet enjoys the ride. You will roll in the snow, wrestle with chewie toys, bounce little rubber balls till your eyes cross, and even run around the house trailing your bathrobe tie — with a cat in hot pursuit — all in the name of love.

Your house will become muddier and hairier. You will wear less dark clothing and buy more lint rollers. You may find dog biscuits in your pocket or purse, and feel the need to explain that an old plastic shopping bag adorns your living room rug because your cat loves the crinkly sound.

You will learn the true measure of love — the steadfast, undying kind that says, “It doesn’t matter where we are or what we do, or how life treats us as long as we are together.” Respect this always. It is the most precious gift any living soul can give another. You will not find it often among the human race.

And you will learn humility. The look in my dog’s eyes often made me feel ashamed. Such joy and love at my presence. She saw not some flawed human who could be cross and stubborn, moody or rude, but only her wonderful companion. Or maybe she saw those things and dismissed them as mere human foibles, not worth considering, and so chose to love me anyway.

If you pay attention and learn well, when the journey is done, you will not be just a better person, but the person your pet always knew you to be — the one they were proud to call beloved friend.

I must caution you that this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear animal companion will follow a path you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go. A pet’s time on earth is far too short — especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for awhile, and during those brief years they are generous enough to give us all of their love — every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left.

The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle now gray. Deep down we somehow always knew this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return. When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead — young and whole once more.

“Godspeed, good friend,” we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross again.

Copyright 1998, Crystal Ward Kent

Reprinted with permission

www.journeyforanimals.com

Children and Pet Loss

Understanding the Child’s Attachment

and the Significance of the Loss

by Marty Tousley, RN

When a child’s pet dies, there is a tendency to minimize both the loss and the child’s grief, especially if the pet was very small. We characterize the death of a child’s gerbil or goldfish as a sort of emotional dress rehearsal for the “real” loss of a relative or close friend. We tell ourselves that kids are more resilient than adults, that they don’t grieve with the same intensity as adults, that they’ll “get over it” more quickly.

No matter what the type of animal, a child’s attachment to a pet is genuine and real. As a playmate, confidante and ally, the family pet is one of the most steady, accepting, non demanding, nonjudgmental figures in the child’s life. In the ever-changing world of a child, a pet’s affection never varies; the pet accepts the child no matter what--and caring for the pet lifts the child’s self-esteem by giving him or her a sense of importance and responsibility.

Death of a pet is often the child’s first real encounter with a major loss. Suddenly friendship, companionship, loyalty, support and unconditional love are replaced with overwhelming and unfamiliar feelings of loss, confusion, emptiness, loneliness, fear and grief.

Far from being a dress rehearsal then, for most children pet loss is a profoundly painful experience. Children who have lost their pets experience feelings of deep sadness and regret--and a pet’s being given away can be just as stressful for the child as any other type of loss.

Recognizing How Children Grieve

Certainly children grieve as deeply as adults; they simply express their grief differently. Because their attention span is shorter, for example, they may move in and out of grief, and the symptoms of grief may come and go, varying in intensity. Their response is based on the knowledge and skills available to them at the time of the loss.

Having had less prior experience with crisis and its consequences, children’s repertoire of coping skills is simpler, their capacity to confront the reality of loss more limited, and their ability to find meaning in life’s crises less mature. If surprised or embarrassed by the intensity of their grief, they may try to hide it or disguise it. Adults are wise to watch and listen --to tune in to their children, to be there for them, and if unsure what’s going on, to ask!

Feelings may include confusion, fear, sadness, anger, pain, distress separation anxiety (clinging), and guilt, especially if the pet’s death was a result of the child’s real or imagined neglect. As they search for ways to understand and master the loss, children will express feelings through play. They may draw pictures or tell stories, or reenact the death by staging a funeral with a Teddy bear or by burying a doll in the sandbox.

Children also express themselves by acting out their feelings (biting, hitting, kicking, throwing tantrums, breaking rules, picking fights with siblings). Behaviors may include difficulty concentrating (leading to learning problems at school), nightmares or sleeplessness, withdrawal from activities and people, psychosomatic complaints (fatigue, sore throat, headache, stomach ache) , and regressing temporarily to an earlier, easier stage of development.

Understanding the Child's Concept of Death

A child's concept of death varries with the cognitive and emotional level of development of the child; grief is experienced and expressed in different developmental stages.

Toddlerhood (0-2)

Even children under the age of two can feel and respond to family stress (by crying, clinging, withdrawing or regressing).  They find reassurance through hugs, cuddling, having special time with the parent, and sticking to their normal routines.

Preschool (2 to 5)

Since love needs at this age oridinarily are met by caregivers, the pet will be missed as a playmate, but not as a love object.  Death is perceived as a temporary and reversible state, neither permanent nor universal (like Snow White's deep sleep, or as a tree loses its leaves in the fall,  only to bloom again in the spring).

Early School (5 to 9)

Death is seen permanent and the child understands that a pet who has died will not return.  Although the causes of death are understood (cancer, trauma, poison), there is a magical quality to the thinking in children at this age.  They believe that death is not inevitable -- that is, that death can be avoided, or even wished upon another.  They may think of death as punishment for their own misdeeds or evil thoughts, or they may see a cause-and-effect relationship.  Did this death happen because of something I did or failed to do?  Will it happen to me (or to someone else I love)? and Who will take care of me if or when it does happen?

School Age (From age 10 up)

By now youngsters know that death comes to all living things, and when death occurs, all bodily functions stop.  They know that death can happen suddenly or gradually, and that it is final, permanent and inevitable.  Not surprisingly, adolescents may take longer to resolve their grief, since their developmental tasks of separating from parents and rebelling against adult authority figures may make them feel at once alienated from adults and quite attached to their pets, who have loved them so unconditionally and uncritically.

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Below are some pet prayers and poems

A Doggie Prayer

Do not grieve for me, my friend, as I am with my kind...

My collar is a rainbow's hue
My leash a shooting star
My boundaries are the milky way
Where I sparkle from afar.

There are no pens or kennels here
For I am not confined
But free to roam God's heavens
Among my special kind.

I nap the day on a snowy cloud
With gentle breezes rocking me
I dream the dreams of earthlings
And how it used to be.

The trees are full of liver treats
And tennis balls abound
And milk bones line the walking ways
Just waiting to be found.

There even is a ring set up
The grass all lush and green
And everyone who gaits around
Becomes the "Best Of Breed".

For we're all winners in this place
We have no faults you see
And God passes out the ribbons
To each one--even me.

At night I sleep in angels' arms
Their wings protecting me
And moonbeams dance about us
As stardust falls on thee.

So when your life on earth is spent
And you reach heaven's gate
Have no fear of loneliness
For here, you know I wait.

Author Unknown

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Remember Our Love

I was chosen today
I am learning to fly
the world took me away,
but please don't you cry

And I chose you today
to try and be strong
so please don't you cry
and don't say that I am gone

When you're feeling alone
just remember our love,
I'm up near the stars
looking down from above.

Remember our love
In a moment you'll see
that I am still here beside you
when you're thinking of me.

Author Unknown

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Pet Heaven 

Can you imagine a heaven without pets?

There is a very special place where beloved pets go after they die. This is only a temporary location. But there are trees and grass and lakes, and everything they love. Here they can play and eat and sleep, even better than they did, before they died. Now, there are no aches or worries or dangers of any kind to trouble or threaten them. The only joy missing is their beloved human companion, you.

All health is restored completely, and all injuries are healed. Dogs and cats play with each other like youngsters, and they do not have time to feel lonely for you. They miss you, and with the special wisdom that animals have, they trust that this condition will get better. And they confidently wait as they frolic.

A wonderful day will come for each of them, when in the middle of playing they will suddenly feel something is different. And all their senses will be at the height of excitement and exuberance. They will sniff the air and look off in the distance where they recognize that dearly loved special presence. Then they will call out in elation, and with eyes shining and tail going wild, tear off at a full gallop, almost flying over the green grass.

Your expected arrival has been sensed, and now there is nothing that can keep the two of you apart, ever again. As you run toward each other the tears flow from your eyes. Your pet leaps into your arms, and you cling together in jubilant reunion. The joyous kisses are all over your face, and you kiss back, just as ecstatically. Your hands so lovingly caress once more the beloved fur, the head and neck and body you knew so well. And you look into each other’s loving eyes, and all those old, wonderful shared feelings are back, again.

And then something will call the both of you on, to a different field of warmth and nurture, where all the love you knew now comes to fruition. With your pet, you leave that special waiting area, walk into the main part of heaven, and begin a new existence there, together.

If you accept that pets can love us as much as we do them, then the logic is clear and cannot be denied. If you believe that there is a heaven for people, then they must be there, waiting for us, when we cross over. Heaven is love, and pets always share that with us.

— Wallace Sife, Ph.D. The Loss of a Pet (Third Edition, 2005), Chapter 16

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The Greatest Gift

 

I always knew this time would come
From the very first time our eyes first met
How I loved you then! How I love you now!
I made a promise then and I keep that promise now.

You will not suffer from a pain that will not heal,
You will not know the loss of a life remembered, now gone.

It is for me alone to make this decision.

The price for the bright joy and pure laughter.

You brought me during the time we shared.

I am the only one who can decide when it is time
Just when I need you most, I must let you go.
It is for you alone to tell me when you are ready,
For without your guidance, I will not know
When to lay my grief, my guilt, my anger,
My sorrow and my selfish heart aside
And give you the last gift, the greatest gift.
Your eyes will speak to mine, and I will know.

The pain of this moment is excruciating,
Tears stream down my face in a river of sorrow,
And my heart drowns in a pool of grief.
For you have spoken and I have listened
And unlike other decisions I have made,
This one brings no relief...no comfort...no peace
For if there's one thing I have learned...
Unconditional love has a condition after all.

I must be willing to let you go when you speak to me,

I must accept my pain so you can be free of yours.

Go easily now, go quickly now,
Do not linger here, it is time for you to leave.
Go find the ones who have gone before you.
You are free to leave me now, free to let your spirit soar.

I pray I will find comfort in my memories...
In the dark and lonely days ahead
I cannot say I will not miss you,
I cannot say I will not cry,
For only my tears can heal my broken heart.

But I promise you this...
as long as I live...You will live
Alive in my mind, forever in my heart
And this will be my greatest gift...
Sending you away
It is the measure of my unconditional love...
For only the greatest love can say
“Goodbye, go find the Rainbow Bridge
and yes, we'll meet again.

Loving you has been the greatest gift of all.”

Karla Bertram

Written for Tiara (a Standard Poodle) in 1994

and for Topaz, a wonderful cat who died in 1996

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I Am Free

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free
 I'm following the path God laid for me
I took His lead when I heard Him call
I turned back and then left it all.

I could not stay another day
To purr, to love, to work, or play
Events uncompleted must stay that way
I'm found my peace at the close of the day.

If my parting left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy
A friendship shared, a purr, a kiss
Oh yes, these things I, too, will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow
My life's been full, I savoured much
Good friends, good times, a loved one's touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don't lengthen it now with undue grief
Lift up your heart and share with me
God wanted me now, he set me free.

Author Unknown

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I'm Still Here

Friend, please don't mourn for me
I'm still here, though you don't see.
I'm right by your side each night and day
and within your heart I long to stay.

My body is gone but I'm always near.
I'm everything you feel, see or hear.
My spirit is free, but I'll never depart
as long as you keep me alive in your heart.

I'll never wander out of your sight-
I'm the brightest star on a summer night.
I'll never be beyond your reach-
I'm the warm moist sand when you're at the beach.

I'm the colorful leaves when fall comes around
and the pure white snow that blankets the ground.
I'm the beautiful flowers of which you're so fond,
The clear cool water in a quiet pond.

I'm the first bright blossom you'll see in the spring,
The first warm raindrop that April will bring.
I'm the first ray of light when the sun starts to shine,
and you'll see that the face in the moon is mine.

When you start thinking there's no one to love you,
you can talk to me through the Lord above you.
I'll whisper my answer through the leaves on the trees,
and you'll feel my presence in the soft summer breeze.

I'm the hot salty tears that flow when you weep
and the beautiful dreams that come while you sleep.
I'm the smile you see on a baby's face.
Just look for me, friend, I'm everyplace!

Author Unknown

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LAST NIGHT

I stood by your bed last night; I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying you found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
"It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today; your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today; you tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I'm not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you; I smiled and said, "it's me."
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It's possible for me, to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."
You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew...
in the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning
and say "good-night, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out...then come home to be with me.

Author unknown

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Shadow's Song

I'm not gone… not really.
I haven't gone away… I've only gotten bigger.
My eyes, so bright, now shine among the stars.
My voice sings with the wind in winter, as I leap
And dance among the tree tops.
I stalk the blown leaves in autumn,
and brush the flowers gently in the Spring.
I come to you in dreaming, on feet grown dreamtime soft,
And lay my cheek against yours, and whisper:
"Peace be with you."
Someday we will play again together, you and I, among the stars
'Til then, fear not to love, for your love gave my life meaning
And I return that love to you
a hundredfold….a thousandfold… Forever.

Audrey E. Nickel, 1966

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