Posts Tagged ‘After’

How to Cope With Uncaring Friends After Losing a Pet

How to Cope With Uncaring Friends After Losing a Pet

For people who love and keep pets, one of the most traumatic moments they will ever experience is bidding farewell to their furry of feathered best friend. Most pet people imagine that they could not feel any worse than they do during this terrible experience. Unfortunately, often we can, and for the most ironic of reasons.

At a time when we are at our lowest and sorely in need of comforting from a friend or relative, instead, too frequently we find callousness or indifference. Sometimes those we love come up short in the compassion department and unwittingly say cruel and hurtful things. Commonly, we hear things like “get over it already, it was just a cat”, or “what is your problem, just go buy another dog”. Friends don’t mean to be cruel. Some simply do not understand the depth of our pain or cannot relate to how we are feeling.

I want to caution you not to over-react to their lack of understanding. Don’t buy into the philosophy that when you are down and out, you will learn who your true friends are by the way they act toward you. This may be true when you lose your job or when you become divorced, because friendships are often based on social considerations. If the make-up of your family changes, for instance (i.e. your wife leaves with the children, etc.), your neighbors may not find you as socially attractive as before. If you lose your job, and coincidentally your income, you may not be able to afford membership at the local golf club and shallow friends may shun you because you have become a potential burden to them.

Losing a pet does not usually change your social status, however. It does not make you an unattractive neighbor or economically-challenged golf partner. Consequently, if your friends are not there for you when you need their support, there probably are other factors at play that have nothing to do with your friendship.

Friends undoubtedly feel your pain very, very deeply. They perceive that you are very low and they want to help, but sometimes even your closest friends do not know what to do for you. They are not sure how to react to your grief. They do not know how to approach the topic or are afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Their first response is usually an attempt to try to cheer you up, not realizing that this is the last thing you need or want. That failing, they feel inadequate and unable to help. Perhaps they are ashamed that they initially came across as flippant when they did not mean to. Now, certain that they have offended you, they try to avoid you, or at least avoid the topic. The effect is that they appear to be indifferent and unfeeling in your hour of need.

This makes them no less your friend than they were before your loss. They still love you and care about you. They simply are not equipped emotionally to help. We perceive this as a failure on their part, and indeed, it is; but it is a failure to know how to help, not a failure as a friend.

If you value your friendship, your reaction to this perceived failure should be one of grace. The relationship may hang on your ability to be understanding. Undoubtedly, it is unfair to you in your hour of need to be required to exercise wisdom and compassion for someone who you think is letting you down. But if you value that relationship, it is worth the effort. Don’t react harshly. Don’t react impulsively. Put your emotions on hold until such time that you can make a measured response.

I have found that by saying something like: “I know that what I am going through is difficult for you to understand. I know you want to help me, but there is really nothing you can do right now. I need to go through the pain and I need to grieve. If you would just give me some time and be patient, eventually my pain will be manageable and I will start being my old self again”; friends will give you space and understand.

Then, the ball is in your court. Don’t let what you told them be words only. You need to follow through on your promise. Grieve as long as you must, but start to focus on returning to normal. Time will assist you in that goal, but real healing comes from within.

Most of us play the “what if” game and wind up blaming ourselves for one thing or another regarding the passing of our pets. Don’t do that. No matter what the circumstances, don’t blame yourself for what happened. Focus on the love and devotion you had for your best friend and concentrate on the good times. Eventually, you will wake up one morning and realize your life is returning to normal.

When you do, you will see that friends and family are still there for you. Forgive their inability to relate to what you were going through. It doesn’t mean they didn’t care. It doesn’t mean they didn’t love you. In fact, in most cases you will find that it was because they cared, because they loved you, that they kept their distance in respect for your grief.

Grieving is one of the few times in our lives when we are allowed to be selfish and to over-indulge. You take whatever time you need in this very private matter. No one should tell you how long to mourn. Set those who care about you at ease and let them know you need time to grieve and be alone. But when you are finished, return to normal for them. The pain will still be there, but you will have framed it in context with the rest of your life and other relationships will have remained intact.

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The Bookends—Dogs Who Inspired Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss

Framed White Puppy Dog Angel with Wings, Luna, American Pit Bull Terrier, Staffordshire, In Heaven from the Rainbow Bridge


Image by Beverly & Pack

The Bookends—Dogs Who Inspired Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss

The Bookends

I had raced to the Petco when I learned from someone at our local humane society that they were showing a three-year-old male West Highland white terrier for adoption there. Just as I approached this beautiful dog, my heart sank. There was another woman signing his adoption papers. Though disappointedâ??because Iâ??d looked for such a dog for two yearsâ??I would nevertheless have been happy for his getting a good homeâ?¦if only that were what was happening here.

His intake form read â??Reasons animal is being relinquished: family allergic, and dog doesnâ??t do well alone for long periods.â? I almost lost it as this adoptive woman casually said in my presence, â??Well, weâ??re all allergic, too, but weâ??ll see how it goes.â? She followed this up with, â??We all work all day, but heâ??ll be all right, wonâ??t he?â? And last, when I noted he was due for a haircut, she wrinkled her nose and said, â??Oh you donâ??t have to do that, do you?â?

This woman obviously had no clue what she was getting into with adopting a terrier whoâ??d already had a minimum of two previous homes. And what was worse, sheâ??d raised every possible red flag for the adoption agency and still they let the transaction go through!

Incensed on his behalf, I gave the woman my business card. I told her I already had one Westie, I run a home-based business and thus heâ??d never be alone for long, and dogs are elevated to god-like status in my house. Pushy broad that I am, despite my Minnesota Nice upbringing, I flat-out said, â??Whenâ?¦and ifâ?¦this doesnâ??t work out, call me.â?

That was on a Sunday in 1996. By the following Thursday, Ludwig was welcomed into his forever home with my menagerie of critters and me.

He was adored, pampered, and cherished every day until his last, when he died of prostate cancer the night before Thanksgiving 2005. This beautiful boy had survived the usually deadly virus leptospirosis two years earlier and went on to be the ring bearer in my wedding in 2004.

When he died, my husband and I knew we wanted to memorialize him somehow yet not be totally centered on ourselves. We decided to hold an All-Pets Memorial service, wherein people could bring photos of their own beloved, long-lost animal family members. An astounding thirty human beings attended, crowded into our living room. Tears, tales, and terrier-shaped treats were shared. We learned about what nearly 100 honored pets had brought into the lives of our friends, and all hearts were healed a bit that day.

Someone there came up to me and said, â??Sid, you should write a book about memorializing pets.â? That planted the seed that took several years to germinate and finally fully bloom. In August 2009, I published Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss. In it, I provide both personal and professional insights into the animal loverâ??s unique grieving process.

Just two days after my husband and I sent out prayers to Ludwig and asked him to paw-pick especially for us the next doggie we were supposed to share our lives with, my husband found Mortimerâ??s listing on Petfinder. (We saved him from the hideous temporary name Sir Chuckyâ??I kept seeing that demon doll from the horror movie Childâ??s Playâ??and named him after Cary Grantâ??s character in Arsenic and Old Lace, Mortimer Brewster, who was so glad to find out that he was â??adoptedâ? and therefore wouldnâ??t inherit the familyâ??s insanity.)

We drove to North Dakota to spring him from the James River Humane Society where heâ??d been deposited as a stray. The ad in Petfinder said he was three. A visit to our vet, where we learned he had advanced degenerative arthritis, got the response, â??Well, I donâ??t think heâ??s quite ten.â?

I was heartbroken. How could Ludwig have blown it so? I felt Iâ??d lost seven years with my darling boy in a few seconds! Iâ??ve found that sometimes we have to thank the Universe/(Puppy) Powers that be for keeping us in the dark and not giving us exactly what we wish for. They give us what we need.

In all honesty, knowing Mortimerâ??s advanced age would have deterred us from adopting him just then, as I couldnâ??t bear the thought of losing another senior so soon after Ludwigâ??s passing. But if we hadnâ??t been blissfully unaware, we wouldnâ??t have welcomed into our lives this phenomenally wonderful dog. He soon had two younger siblings to keep him young at heart, too.

By the time I started writing the book, I had added to my family those three Westies (yes, Iâ??m brand loyal, but theyâ??re always rescues), namely Mortimer, Blanche and Keely. They blended in beautifully with fellow rescues Giles and Xander (my cats), and Atticus and Scout (my finches).

My bond with all of these animals led me to pursue ordination as an animal chaplain, to further help me reach out in a meaningful way to others who are dealing with the pain of pet loss. Mortimer taught me to live in the moment as much as possible and to cherish every moment with our beloved companions. We made a concerted effort to ensure his last years were splendid, too. The experience tested my convictions in the book and showed me what Iâ??d learned in researching and writing it really did work to help my heart heal after my much-loved Mortimer passed away rather suddenly just after Iâ??d finished the book and turned over its pages to the designer for layout. His story became the bookâ??s poignant epilogue. I have a peaceful heart knowing he and Ludwig both are properly immortalized and thanked for their invaluable roles in this life-changing venture.

I can see now the reason Ludwig found me this superb seniorâ??so his passing would perfectly timed for me to have my two precious dogs as my â??bookends.â?

Sid Korpi
Author Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss
<www.goodgriefpetloss.com>

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