Coping with grief: When the dog dies

The loss of a dog often hits deeper than words can express. Anyone who has never had a dog at their side or has simply abused it as a “farm animal” cannot and will not understand what a loss the death of a beloved four-legged friend is.

A dog is much more than just a pet, work animal or guardian. A dog is a companion, confidant, comforter, constant, in short, a family member. It is there every day, accompanying us in our everyday lives and our entire life plan is geared towards our four-legged friend. A dog loves us unconditionally. No matter what we look like or how we feel. It is always there for us. And suddenly there is an emptiness that simply cannot be filled.

We are orphaned dog parents ourselves and cannot provide a guide in the sense of “How to get over it faster”, because grief has no speed. We want to help all those who, like us, have lost their treasure to find their own way through the pain.

Grief is love that no longer finds a place

When a dog dies, it’s not just a living being that disappears. An entire relationship system collapses. All the rituals, habits, small gestures, familiar routines. The good morning greeting, the cuddling on the sofa, the gentle snoring, the playing, the running, the caring. All of this was part of an inner balance. This part has broken away, leaving an emotional imbalance in its wake.

Many people underestimate their own grief because they believe they shouldn’t feel it so strongly. But this is precisely a mistake. The depth of grief shows the depth of the bond. It shows how strong the love and closeness were. There is no such thing as excessive grief for a dog. Grief is never exaggerated. Because grief is love that no longer has a place. The recipient has disappeared, but she has not.

Allow yourself to be sad without justification

Allow yourself to grieve. Even if others say things like “It was only a dog”. With respect – you can thoroughly sort out two-legged friends. Anyone who doesn’t understand this has neither empathy nor respect for other living beings. It was your dog, your companion. It was part of your everyday life, your emotional life, your security. When tears come, they are allowed to come. For us, they still come daily, even almost a year after Mr. Sheffield’s death.

The body mourns with you

Grief is not just a feeling, it can also be felt physically. Psyche and soma go hand in hand. Tiredness, insomnia, inner restlessness, pressure on the chest, loss of appetite, shortness of breath, dizziness – all these are the companions of painful grief.

The nervous system has lost a firm anchor and the body often reacts before the mind can find words, before you even realize what has happened. In this phase, it can help to be gentle with yourself. Fresh air, light exercise, warmth and simple routines can provide support. Not having to function. Breathing is enough.

Every morning we walked the paths in Windhoek that we had walked with Mr. Sheffield. Yes, it hurt and yet he was very close to us there.

Rituals give shape to the farewell

Saying goodbye is difficult to understand if it is not given an external framework. Rituals help to make the loss tangible. They give the pain a form and thus a place. This can be a candle at a set time. A letter to the dog. A special place associated with shared memories. Or a small memento such as a photo or a paw print, or a memorial, a corner that is set up just for the dear little or big one. It’s like a bridge between you and your dog, a connection that lasts.

As we have not yet been able to set up a physical memorial corner, the virtual one has helped us. Both the page at Rosengarten, but of course also here at HolaWuff.

Feelings of guilt are often part of grief, but need to be categorized

Few topics are as stressful after the death of a dog as feelings of guilt. Thoughts circle around the same questions again and again. Should I have reacted sooner? Did I make the right decision? Did I wait too long? Did I let go too soon? Did I expect too much of him? Would it have been different if we had done this or left that? Is it my fault that he died?

These thoughts are understandable and we know them only too well. They are not the result of guilt, but of responsibility, care and love. Those who love take responsibility for the well-being of others. When the dog dies, this responsibility seeks a target and is often directed at oneself.

It is important to understand that these thoughts arise from today’s perspective. With the knowledge of now. However, decisions were made with the knowledge, possibilities and situation of that time. Nobody consciously decides against the welfare of their dog. In almost all cases, decisions were made to the best of our knowledge, with the utmost care and a deep sense of responsibility.

Dogs live in the now

They do not analyze retrospectively, they do not compare, they do not judge. They know whether they felt safe. Whether they were loved. Whether they were held when things got hard. That they were not alone when they had to leave. That is much more important than any individual decision.

A helpful step in dealing with feelings of guilt can be to consciously ask yourself what you have done, not just what you have supposedly failed to do. The care, the love, the attention, the years together, all the moments when the dog could rely on you.

It helps some people to imagine what their own dog would say if it could speak. As a rule, it would not be a reproach, but deep gratitude. For closeness, protection, love until the last moment, until the last breath.

The thought of a new dog

Another topic that nobody but you has to evaluate. I, we, realized after the loss of Mr. Sheffield that no new dog would have a place with us again so quickly. Firstly, because we were traveling, and secondly, because it just wasn’t emotionally possible. I love dogs endlessly. And we always take care of many four-legged friends. But… the pain and grief are still so deep that we can’t let a new dog into our lives.

We are sure that this will change at some point. It’s just not possible at the moment.

Some, however, quickly feel the desire for a new dog. Others reject the idea for a long time or forever. Both are right.

A new dog does not replace a lost one. It does not take on the same role. It brings a new relationship with its own history. Sometimes the desire for a new dog is not a way of running away from grief, but an expression of one’s own ability to love again. Sometimes distance is needed. There is no right or wrong. And everyone really has to feel that for themselves.

When the grief remains

Grief changes, at best. It doesn’t disappear, but it becomes softer, more bearable. At some point, I hope, the memories will lose their sting and gain warmth. I still cry for our sweetheart every day. Nevertheless, I continue to live our life, even with joy, with everyday life. The pain is there, but it doesn’t cost me my life.

However, if the grief covers everything for months, makes everyday life impossible or turns into deep hopelessness, it is a sign of strength to get help. With trusted people or professionally. Accepting support does not mean losing your connection to your dog. It means that you take yourself seriously and look for a way out. Because your beloved furry friend would never want you to completely despair. You are not ill or disturbed because of this, but need help in coping with your grief.

Your dog remains part of your story

Your dog lives on in you. He is in your movements, in your memories, in your way of loving. He has left his mark. In your heart, in other hearts. This connection should not burden you, but you should see it as a gift. This feeling, this connection does not die. Even if the tears roll every day – they are important so that you can give the pressure of grief an outlet.

Some say that time heals all wounds. From my own experience, I have to say that this is not true. But time teaches us to live with these wounds.

When pain becomes memory

Hardly any living creature is closer to you than a dog. No one loves as unconditionally as a dog. And when they go, they leave a gap that is almost unbearable. As orphaned dog parents, we can only try to fill this gap with gratitude, love and connection. And perhaps at some point, the pain will turn into a warm remembrance. Not today, maybe not even tomorrow. But one day. We are still hoping for that too.