Grief as Spiritual Formation: Grieving the Loss of a Pet
by Peggy Haymes, Pinnacle Associate and Creator of Navigating Griefland, an 8-week group course for healing & support
Sitting on the exam table after a bout of double pneumonia, I talked with my doctor about the experience. “I’m not surprised I got sick,” I said. “My 14-year-old dog just died.” “Yes,” he replied, not unkindly. “We tell ourselves not to be upset about such things, but sometimes we just can’t help it.” Really? Oakley was my first dog, a companion who greeted me at the door every time I came in and slept by my side every night. She listened without judgment and pulled me outside to go for walks and runs. She was my fierce protector whose barking once scared a burglar away from my house. She was one of my best friends. When she was diagnosed with cancer, the best case scenario was 18 months to two years, and we very nearly wrung every single possible day out of that promise. But even with good news from tests, I watched her grow weaker. Daily, I asked myself if this was finally the time to let her go, but she still greeted me with a smile every single morning—so very happy to see me. How could I put down a dog who was that happy? One night, Oakley fell and couldn’t get up. It was time.
Somehow, I managed to get her 60-pound body into my car and to the emergency vet. Through my tears, I rubbed my dog’s head as she took her last, deep breath. So yes, I wasn’t surprised by my deep grief when I finally said goodbye. In no universe did I expect or even desire not to be so upset. Most of the time, it feels like a confession: “I’ve been grieving my cat more than I grieved my uncle. There must be something wrong with me.” Such comments reflect a kind of hierarchy of grief, a ranking of who and what is more valuable. The grief over the death of a person—any person—is seen as more legitimate than the grief over the loss of a pet. And in fact, some question if grieving the loss of “just an animal” has any legitimacy at all.
There is no national ranking of grief. We generally recognize some losses, such as the death of a child, carry their own particular deep devastation. However, it’s not a competition as to what grief is worthy or should be allowed. If we are heart-connected with someone or something, we will grieve their loss. No one else gets to determine the depth and meaning of that connection for us. God created all of these creatures just as God created us. God called all of creation good.
And if the scriptures do not say our pets were formed in the image of God as we were, I have to say that I have learned more about grace from some of the animals in my life than some of the people I have known. (I’m not talking about you, of course.)
What a delight to have someone in your life who is always and without exception delighted to see you, even if you were only gone for five minutes.
Recognizing the gifts of an animal in our lives nudges us to let go of the arrogance of our humanity—the belief that creation exists to serve us—and to embrace the wisdom and gift of all that God created and blessed. We are reminded of our mandate to be stewards of creation, not careless consumers. The animals in our lives invite us to be better humans. If we are wise, we learn to accept them, even with their imperfections.
Oakley’s adopted brother, Ralphie, was a fabric eater, chewing holes in every blanket and bedspread I owned. A chatty fellow, he sometimes barked to hear himself bark. Even though I sometimes got frustrated with him, I never loved him less, and when he died just a few months after Oakley, it nearly undid me. He never had to be perfect to be the perfect dog for me. Would that we could remember that for each other. And ourselves. With some pets comes an introductory course on aging and grief. While some animals have very long lifespans, others, like the cats and dogs I’ve had, are shorter. The cute puppy becomes the white faced, slow-moving old man. The irresistible kitten becomes the rough-around-the-edges old lady.
We choose to love them as they are. Or we adopt an adult cat or dog, knowing that even if the years are short, the love may be long. Our pets can bring us laughter and companionship, frustration and worry. In their living and in their dying, they invite us to walk with the wild Spirit who also created the wild things.
Peggy Haymes is the creator of Navigating GriefLand, an 8 week small group curriculum for churches.
