Grief after Pet Loss: Losing Coco
Coco, taken on 07/09/23
My dog, Coco, died on the 9th October. He was six and a half and the centre of my family’s home and life. He loved absolutely everyone and he was so incredibly loved.
I don’t usually write blog posts like this, but I don’t know how to process this, and writing has always been my outlet. Telling people about Coco is comforting, especially when grief means he is all I want to think and talk about. I am hopeful that sharing will be helpful for people who have also experienced the loss of their furry friend, as well as for those who have not.
A lot of people don’t understand pet loss and it seems to be often one of those hidden types of grief that society doesn’t really acknowledge. It can feel like only those who have experienced that special connection with an animal understand. Many people who lose a pet feel that their grief is not viewed in the same way it would be if a person they loved had died. This can exacerbate feelings of loneliness and grief. But losing a pet can feel like losing a family member, depending on the bond.
The pain I have felt since losing Coco has been excruciating. I have experienced grief before, particularly with my Grandfather, but the pain of Coco’s death is different. It is a physical pain in my stomach, tears that won’t stop coming, and arms that ache to hold him. The reminders are everywhere, all of the time - on my bed, where he is no longer curled up next to me; in the kitchen, where his food and water bowls should be; when I wake up and he is not there to say good morning; when I am crying and he is not there to lick the tears away.
For the last six and half years, Coco is what has made every difficult time slightly easier. But he is not here for this one. He is not there to jump onto my bed and hug me, comfort me when I am sad, and pester me to play with him. There is this huge gaping hole in my house and in me.
Coco was my best friend. He made me smile every single day. He gave me purpose and hope during periods of depression. He was my motivation for getting out of hospital and his visits would keep me going each week. He was so much more than a dog - we always joked that he thought he was human (for instance, he would tap our leg at dinner as soon as the final knife and fork was put down to ask to sit on someone’s knee, as he believed he had a right to sit at the table as one of the family!). He was so clever and emotionally intelligent. He helped three people get over their fear of dogs and so many people told us he was a very special dog.
It is four weeks since I held him and told him I loved him, not knowing I wouldn’t see him alive again. In the first week, I alternated between crying and anger - wrapped up in OCD spirals, self-destructive thoughts and heartache - and trying to focus on a task a day to get through. The first day I made the video at the bottom of this post. The second day I took a card and gift to our wonderful vets with my Mum. We went back to his favourite park with our other dog, Kaia (a very different character, but I am hopeful I will be able to build a bond with her). I started making a photo book about his life. I finally showered after several days. I started looking at urns. Each task was like wading through thick fog, the next step impossible to see, but each one propelling me a minute further into the future.
Things that have helped:
Family and friends visiting
Receiving cards, gifts and flowers from thoughtful friends and family, and even my colleagues at work
Sorting through photos to make a video and photo-book about his life
Sharing and reading the lovely comments on the dog Facebook group who followed his journey
Going to his favourite place
Taking a card and gift to our vets
Selecting things to remember him - e.g. I am getting a necklace from Ashes into Glass and a tattoo of his outline/paw print.
Carrying his toy giraffe everywhere with me
Sessions with my therapist
Cancelling any plans and being off sick from work then having annual leave
People checking in with me and validating how I was feeling - that it was okay despite everything else going on in the world
I spent time with my family. I went away to Iceland for four days as planned with my boyfriend, despite not wanting to go, and had the most incredible time. Away from the constant reminders and excited by the Northern Lights, glaciers, sight of waterfalls and seals, the dopamine surge and autistic joy took over and I felt so alive. Inevitably, on return I crashed again, and the pain is just as intense as before.
Grief brings a lot of questions, like:
Why did this have to happen?
Could I have done anything differently?
Did he know that I loved him?
If I want the pain to stop, should I feel guilty?
How quickly will people expect me to get over this?
Am I being selfish for feeling this way when there is so much worse happening in the world?
If I feel this bad over losing him, how will I ever cope when something worse happens?
How do I stop this from spiralling?
How do I do life without him?
I was deep in anxiety, OCD and distress when my parents decided to get a dog and Coco came into our lives. He was there through the hospital admission and years of crisis, through the nursing degree and starting a job. A constant, to return home to every-day and to comfort me whenever I was stressed. He gave us so much that it doesn’t feel fair that his life has been cut so short.
I don’t know how this will ever feel okay. Aside from the short time away, where I felt separated from it all, I have barely got out of bed, showered or got dressed. I haven’t gone out or seen friends. My OCD and mood has not been as bad as it has been these past four weeks in years. It feels like depression, but I know it’s not - it’s grief.
This blog post, although it has taken me all day just to do this, is another step forward. Maybe it’s too personal and I’ll take it down when I’m in a better mental space. But I wish people understood what losing a pet can feel like. Even calling Coco a pet diminishes his role in our lives. He was a family member. My best friend. I don’t know how long the pain will last. I don’t know if the worsening of my OCD will be a relapse or a short-lived reaction. I don’t know if going back to work next week will help or make things harder. There are so many things you cannot know when you are deep in grief. All you can do is put one foot in-front of the other, do one thing at a time, and focus only on the minute or hour ahead.
Not everyone will understand, but there are people who do understand.
If you have lost a pet, let me know in the comments. Tell me about your pet, and if anything helped you to get through the pain of losing them.
This webpage here may be helpful, as well as Blue Cross Pet Bereavement support.