MY ROLE
It is often said that the price of love is grief. There is an extraordinarily close bond between us and our beloved pets, and the pain of losing them can be devastating. There is an overwhelming and intense sadness from the loss. You may feel broken and numb. You may also mourn the loss of their unconditional love, the loss of a companion and the loss of your regular routine and miss their sheer physical presence. Depending on the circumstances of the loss, you may feel terrible guilt. All of this is perfectly normal.
You may be surprised to not only experience emotional symptoms but also physical ones, including insomnia, fatigue, headaches, digestive problems, nausea and aching muscles. You may not be taking care of your physical needs such as eating properly, having enough sleep and taking some exercise. You may turn to alcohol or drugs to numb your pain.
You may believe your life will never return to anything like normal, although most people do eventually find a way through their sorrow. There is a common belief that time heals everything. You may never heal completely, but the gaps between the waves of grief do grow longer, and your memories will be happy rather than painful.
My role is to “hold your hand” through the pain and guide you on the road to recovery, to help you grieve properly and normally, to help you accept your loss and heal. I am not here to “fix” you, but to enable you to fix yourself. I am not here to distract you from your loss, but to understand and manage it and in time move forward with your life.
Together we will do this by talking, exploring your feelings, developing coping mechanisms and setting manageable goals There is no right or wrong way to grieve and no set length of time it should take. Every individual is different and each grieves in their own way for as long as it takes, which may be much longer than you would expect or hope.
I am here to help.
MY PERSONAL PET GRIEF STORY
I’ve had bearded collies for 30 years, and they have all been wonderful, but Brodie was very special.
After my husband died, Brodie slept on the bed next to me, his head on the pillow where my husband’s had been and he solemnly did this every night until he thought that I was alright to sleep almost alone and then he moved, but only to the bottom of the bed.
For the next five years Brodie was my everything. I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful supportive family and friends, but when I shut the door in the evening, it was just Brodie and me.
Then, a mutual friend introduced me to a wonderful man who last year became my husband, and for Brodie it was love at first sight. He had clearly missed having a dad and would howl in excitement whenever he saw him and jump up to put his huge paws on his shoulders.
Although Brodie was aging and like most of us as we grow older, had creaky joints, but was otherwise in great shape with a strong heart, good hearing and eyesight. He loved his walks in the park and if a bitch was around, even at 14 he was still game.
However, by 2021 his arthritis was becoming an issue. We did all we could to help him, putting rugs on our wooden floors so that he had some purchase when he wanted to stand up, and getting up multiple times during the night when he wanted to get onto our bed and couldn’t. But one day he simply collapsed when out in the park.
Brodie had lost complete mobility and strength in all four of his limbs simultaneously. We don’t know why but it was possibly as a result of a tumour or a stroke. He was admitted to the vet hospital and for 3 days they tried everything, but he wasn’t improving.
Mostly, we sat in the square outside the vet and drank endless glasses of wine. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye but knew in my heart that this was the end, and I was going to have to make that terrible decision.
Brodie couldn’t stand at all and had to be carried even to see us. He was a wise and dignified dog, and we knew he wouldn’t want to continue with no quality of life so, with my husband by my side, I sat on the floor with Brodie's huge grey head in my lap, kissing his beautiful face and whispering to him that it was alright to go, whilst the vet gently put him to sleep. Tears poured down our faces and we were unable to even speak. Brodie had been the last link to my late husband and my grief for both of them was overwhelming and unbearable
Even though we knew we had done the right thing for Brodie, for many weeks we were both numb, exhibiting all the classic symptoms of grief. Our road to recovery was long and hard but helped by having Brodie's ashes which we have along with his collar, in our living room, where we can see them every day, and by the arrival of Bonnie, a little girl bearded collie.
For my birthday a few months later, my husband gave me a framed etching of Brodie, taken from one of my favourite photos of him. I’ve never before opened a birthday present and cried.
We miss Brodie daily, look at his photos and often talk about him. There will never be another Brodie but, as I know from personal experience, it is possible to love again, and we do.