As a society, we are not equipped to handle grief and loss, and many people don’t know what to say to someone who is grieving.  This can be compounded when the loss is that of a pet.  Even people who are genuinely sorry and want to express their sympathy are often don’t know what to say to comfort the grieving person.   

It is difficult to know what to say, and as a result, people often, without meaning to, say the wrong things that, rather than providing comfort, only serve to upset the grieving person even more.   Sometimes, the best thing to say is to simply acknowledge the loss – because the only thing worse than saying the wrong thing is to not say anything at all.   As I’m dealing with my own grief about Amber, I’m once again reminded of how much some of the things people say hurt, even though they’re offered with the best intentions. 

I know how you feel.  Everybody experiences loss differently.  While we may have lost pets ourselves, we can’t know how the grieving person feels, because each pet and each relationship is unique. 

Saying something like “I, too, have lost a pet, and I remember how awful it feels – my heart goes out to you”  instead acknowledges the griever’s feelings without being presumptuous.

It will get better or time heals all wounds.  Grieving people know this on an intellectual level, but they sure don’t feel that way, especially not in the early stages of grief.  Trite phrases like these only serve to minimize the loss and the very real pain the grieving person is feeling now.

Acknowledge the grieving person’s sadness and pain without diminishing their emotions by suggesting that they’re only temporary.

She’s in a better place now.  It was probably for the best.   It was God’s will.  Any variation of this will not be helpful to someone who’s grieving.  Even if their belief system supports this, they’re not going to find comfort in these words, and they may, in fact, serve to emphasize their pain. 

Even if the grieving person believes that our animal friends never really die and that their spirits live on, any of the above phrases, directed at them in the middle of profound sadness, invalidate the very real pain of missing the lost pet’s physical presence.

Let me know if there’s anything I can do.  This is a classic, and natural, response to grief – we feel helpless, and we want to help the grieving person.  However, people who are grieving don’t think straight, and usually don’t know what they need help with, and reaching out or asking for help often requires more of an effort than they can handle. 

Offer to do something concrete instead, such as bringing a prepared meal to the grieving person, or running errands for them.  If you know the person very well and you think it would be acceptable, stop by to check on them.  Otherwise, call them, but accept that they may not want to answer the phone.  Leave a supportive message, and check back again a few days later.

It was only a pet.  I find it hard to believe that some people are still saying this – it is callous and uncaring, even coming from someone who’s not an animal person.  I’m fortunate that the majority of people in my life are animal people, so I’ve not heard this one personally, but I’m being told that it still happens more than you would think. 

When are you going to get another one?  Not quite as shocking as the one above, but equally inappropriate.  Grieving pet parents know that getting a new pet can never replace the lost one, but getting a new pet after a loss is a very individual decision – everyone’s schedule is going to be different.  (Read Life after Loss – Getting a New Pet for more on this topic.)

Don’t cry.  Most people are uncomfortable in the presence of others who are crying.  It is painful to see someone you care about cry, but by telling them not to cry, you are prolonging the grieving process for them. 

Tears heal and are part of the natural grieving process.  One of the best things you can do for someone who is grieving is to let them cry in your presence.  Offer comfort, but don’t make them feel that it’s not okay to cry.

There is no “cure” or “solution” for grief – it’s an individual journey.  Navigating through the grieving process is difficult not just for the person who is mourning a loss, but also for those around the person.  The best thing any of us can do for someone who is grieving the loss of a pet is to set aside our own discomfort with death and loss and gently support them in their grief.

Buckley in her office at the animal hospital

For a limited time, I’m offering a free download of the Prologue and the entire Chapter One of Buckley’s Story – click below to download.  I hope you enjoy!

Buckley’s Story Prologue and Chapter One

If you like what you read and want to know the rest of the story, you can purchase the book at Amazon or Barnes and Noble online.

Sadie, a beautiful tortie living with her human Lena Lemes in Chicago, is helping her human read Buckley’s Story.  Says Lena:  she was “keeping watch as I read your book.  She can always sense my mood, and I was feeling very emotional as I began the chapter where Buckley becomes ill.  Up Sadie popped, and she remained with me until I took a break.  I told her all about Amber and Buckley, and she is reading along with me!”

If you have any photos of your kitties “reading” the book, e-mail them to me  at BuckleysStory@cox.net and I’ll post them here on my blog.

On May 13, I had to let Amber go after a brief, sudden illness.  Less than a year and a half after I lost Buckley, I was faced with grieving yet again. 

It’s not like I hadn’t experienced loss in my life before.  Most of us who’ve reached the age I’m at have had to deal with loss.  I lost my mother in 1994 after a brief illness.  I lost my soul mate cat Feebee in 2000 after a valiant seven-month battle with lymphoma.  I lost my office cat Virginia in 2002 after a brief decline following a fourteen-year-long life with FIV.  I lost my father in 2004 to heart disease and cancer.  And as those of you who’ve read Buckley’s Story know, I lost Buckley after she was diagnosed with restrictive cardiomyopathy and given a very poor prognosis that she outlived by a considerable amount of time.  I had lots of experience with grief, and I survived all of these losses more or less gracefully.  I learned that there is only one way to deal with grief, and that’s to go through it.  There is no way around it.  You can’t run from it.   I learned about the stages of grief.  I learned that you don’t go through them step by step, but rather, that you sometimes cycle through them over and over, until, at some point, mercifully, you may find that you’ve reached the final stage, acceptance.  But even reaching acceptance doesn’t mean that you ever really get “over” a loss. 

So you’d think that with all this personal experience in grieving, I would have been better prepared to handle losing Amber.  The force of my grief caught me completely off guard.  And I realized, in the middle of the shock, the tears, and the pain, that I had never lost a loved one as unexpectedly and suddenly as I lost her.  Twelve short days, from the time that she was mildly ill to the time that I had to let her go.  I never expected her to not get better when I agreed to hospitalize her.  I always expected her to come home.   I spoke with one of the doctors caring for her at 4:30am the morning of May 13.  She had had a good night, and he thought that there might even be a chance that she could come home later that day.  Six hours later, her doctor called to let me know that she’d taken a turn for the worse.  There were other things they could medically do to try and save her, but her prognosis was poor.  I made the agonizing decision to stop treatment, bring her home, and spend the afternoon with her before my vet came to the house that evening to help her with a peaceful transition.

I’m still in the middle of the early, intense stage of grieving.  As with all my losses, there are commonalities.  Despite the incredible outpouring of love and support from not only my ”real life” friends, but also my online friends,  there are times when I feel alone in my grief, disconnected from the world around me and normal everyday activities.   I’m physically exhausted most of the time – grief takes a toll not just emotionally,  but physically.  I try to take care of myself as best as I can, by trying to eat regular meals, getting some exercise, and staying connected with friends.  But it’s hard.   Going out into the world is challenging – how can life be going on when my world has changed irrevocably?  In The Healing Art of Pet Parenthood, author Nadine M. Rosin, after losing her nineteen-year-old dog Buttons, writes:  “…being out in public felt totally bizarre, as if the world had come to an end because of some horrible disaster, life as we’d known it on the planet was over, but I seemed to be the only person who knew about it.”  I’ve rarely heard this particular emotion of feeling out of synch with the rest of the world expressed better.  I’m limiting social engagements to activities with friends who understand my grief, and I’m fortunate that most of the people in my life are animal people, and they do understand.  I simply don’t have it in me to make polite chit-chat with those who don’t. 

I know I’ll make it through this, just like I did through all my other losses.  But I am realizing that this one may leave me forever changed in ways that the others didn’t.   And perhaps it has to do with the suddenness of the loss.  I’ve always had time to prepare for loss.  While anticipatory grieving is difficult, I believe that it does help in the end – you have time to get used to the idea of eventually having to go on without your loved one.  But Amber was a healthy, happy cat who had rarely been sick in her life.  There was nothing that could have prepared me for this.   Perhaps, as I come out on the other side of this, I’ll have some words of wisdom on how to cope with sudden, unexpected loss.  For now, all I can offer is that it’s much harder, much more painful, and much more complicated than my other losses.  With the others, I rarely second-guessed myself.  I didn’t rail at the universe for having my loved one taken from me so quickly and so senselessly.  I didn’t blame myself for decisions I made during Amber’s last two weeks.  I just grieved.   With this one, I’m discovering new territory as I go through it.  When I get to a point where it makes some sense, I’ll share it with you.

What I can say is this (and I’ll do my best to take my own advice):  grief is a process.  Be gentle with yourself as you go through it.  Allow those who undertand to support you, and stay away from those who don’t.  It’s too painful to deal with people who say things like “it’s only a cat,” “you should get on with your life,” “when are you going to get another one?” and other careless things like that, or worse, those who don’t say anything at all.  Yes, it may be their own discomfort with death that makes them remain silent, but it’s incredibly painful for the person going through the loss to not receive some sort of acknowledgment.

Grief can be a transformational experience.   It rips your heart wide open, and you’ll never be the same.  It’s up to each individual whether they’ll choose to let grief destroy them, or whether they’ll do the challenging and difficult work that will ultimately allow it to be transformed into personal growth and expansion.  To honor Amber, her love, and all she has brought into my life, I don’t see how I have any other choice except to let something good come from this devastating loss.

Amber and I are on the cover of the spring issue of the Delta Society’s Interactions magazine, a magazine celebrating the human-animal health connection and our animal companions. 

Andrea Leigh Ptak’s article titled More Than Pets – How Animals Enrich Our Lives, features a segment contributed by me, under the heading Coping with Loss.  I had completely forgotten that Andrea had requested a contribution from me for this article, and I certainly had no idea that Amber and I would end up on the cover.  It seems rather timely, all things considered.

Here’s the segment:

Our pets can help us get through difficult life changes in ways that our two-legged friends never can.

Ingrid King considers her cat Feebee a life saver.  “Feebee was a grey tabby cat who came into my life when my former husband and I moved to Northern Virginia.  When my marriage ended after he had been a part of our family for ten years, it was never a question that he would stay with me.  And it’s a good thing he did.  Because the divorce was only the beginning of a very dark period in my life:  four months after my former husband left, my mother passed away after a short illness.  Between trying to adjust to life as a newly single woman, and mourning the untimely passing of my mother, I felt completely overwhelmed.  Just getting through each day seemed impossible at times.  But Feebee was by my side for all of it, and somehow, I managed.  He let my tears soak his soft grey fur.  His quiet, loving presence eased my sadness.    He was a great listener, and his rumbling purr provided comfort.  He cheered me up with his utter cuteness.

Despite his loving presence, the pain and sadness sometimes became unbearable, and there were times when I considered just ending it all.  But whenever these dark thoughts entered my mind, I would also think of Feebee.  Knowing that someone still loved and needed me made it impossible to give up on life.   Who would take care of him if I wasn’t around?  And each and every time, love pulled me back from the edge – this special love between a cat and his person.  Feebee gave me many gifts throughout the almost sixteen years he spent with me, but none greater than the gift of life. ” 

The Delta Society is a non-profit organization dedicated to to help lead the world in advancing human health and well-being through positive interactions with animals.  They help people throughout the world become healthier and happier by incorporating therapy, service and companion animals into their lives.  For more information, visit www.deltasociety.org.

Buckley’s Story received a wonderful endorsement from Alice Villalobos, DVM, DPNAP.

Dr. was the 2005-06 President of the American Association of Human Animal Bond Veterinarians (AAHABV). She is a well known pioneer in the field of cancer care for companion animals and a founding member of the Veterinary Cancer Society. A 1972 graduate of UC Davis, she completed Dr. Gordon Theilen’s first mock residency program in oncology and has served the profession by consulting, writing and lecturing in the rapidly growing field of veterinary oncology and end of life care . She was awarded the UC Davis Alumni Achievement Award in 1994, and the Leo Bustad Companion Animal Veterinarian of the Year Award in 1999. She is editor-in-chief of the AAHABV Newsletter, Secretary of the Animal Health Foundation of the SCVMA and Founder of the Peter Zippi Memorial Fund for Animals, with over 10,000 rescued and placed pets.

Here is her endorsement:

It so happens that my heart resonates with Buckley’s Story and the wonders of the human-animal Bond that enriches the life of all animal lovers. I, too, have rescued a treasured “gimpy tortie.” Her name is Fern and she is wonderful. Turning the pages on Ingrid King’s heartwarming book about Buckley’s special ways and then her illness and her passing and after life care helps one feel more prepared to accept the cycle of life. The depth of Ingrid’s grief matched the height of her joy in the special human-animal bond that she celebrated with Buckley.

Thank you, Dr. Villalobos!  You can find more information about Dr. Villalobos and Pawspice, a program dedicated to the highest standard of compassionate cancer treatment and end of life palliative care to advanced stage and terminal pets by providing a unique Quality of Life Care Program at www.pawspice.com.

Buckley’s Story and I made an appearance at the Reston Pet Fiesta yesterday.  This is an annual event at the Reston Town Center in Reston, VA.  I’ve been attending the event as a visitor from the time they first started it several years ago, and for the past three years, Seneca Hill Animal Hospital Resort and Spa graciously allowed me to advertise my services at their booth since I see Reiki clients there. 

This year, I decided to get my own booth.  The Reston Town Center is my favorite place in this area – it’s the only place in the Northern Virginia suburbs that gives you a bit of an urban feel without having to go into the city.  The combination of wonderful restaurants, fun stores, and a beautiful plaza with chairs and tables arranged around a gorgeous fountain make it the perfect place to walk around, meet friends, or just sit by the fountain and people watch.  I held my book launch party at the Hyatt hotel at the Town Center for that reason – the place is that special to me – so getting a booth at this year’s Pet Fiesta was definitely something I wanted to do.  In addition to getting my own booth, I also sponsored a booth for Casey’s House, the private rescue group where Buckley came from. 

The day was perfect from start to finish.  The weather couldn’t have been better.  My booth location was excellent.   Two great friends came and took shifts helping me man (or should that be woman?) my booth.  Lots of other friends stopped by to say hi.  It was especially fun to meet a few people I previously only knew from Facebook.  I loved introducing Buckley’s Story to new people.  There’s nothing more fun than to meet and chat with other cat people.  I couldn’t believe it when it was 4pm and time to pack up already – the day flew by.

It was a successful day, for Buckley’s Story, and also for Casey’s House.  They brought three cats, and had interest in two of them – fingers crossed that they will go to their forever homes soon.  They got quite a few donations, and the raffle of the gift basket donated by Whimsy Cats generated some more funds for them.

Patches, Amber's daughter, on the left

And there was an interesting, unexpected visitor.  Cindy, the founder of Casey’s House, was in for quite a suprise when she unloaded her van at her booth and realized that her own cat Patches had hitched a ride!  Apparently, she snuck into one of the carriers the adoptable kitties were to go in, and Cindy didn’t notice her until she got to Reston!  What really made this special is that Patches is Amber’s daughter - she’s the only one of Amber’s kittens I was able to keep track of.  Unfortunately, Patches was not too terribly thrilled when she realized what she’d let herself in for, and spent the day in a big carrier, covered by a sheet.

Getting a new pet after losing a beloved animal companion can be very difficult for many pet parents.   Some are able to get a new pet within days of losing the old pet, others may take months and sometimes even years, or never get another pet again.  This is not a decision that anyone else can make for you – there are too many factors that play into it to allow for some easy guidelines, but perhaps, the following can provide a better understanding of the process.

First and foremost, every pet owner knows that it’s not possible to ever replace a lost pet, but that doesn’t change the fact that to many, it still feels like that’s exactly what they’re doing when they bring another animal into their lives.  It helps to remember that each and every animal is unique, and that your relationship with the new pet will probably be completely different than the one you had with your lost loved one.  I’d like to think that our animals would want us to open our hearts to another; that, in fact, they are celebrating when we’ve recovered from our grief over losing them enough to even begin to contemplate  a new addition to the family.

How do you know when the time is right?  This varies from person to person.  Just like grief is an individual journey, so is opening your heart to another animal.  Don’t judge others, or yourself, if you’re not ready, or if you’re ready before others may feel that it’s appropriate.  This issue can be complicated in families where one family member may be ready for another pet, but the other is still deeply immersed in grieving the lost companion.  This will require honest and caring discussions.  Don’t surprise the family member who is not ready with a new puppy or kitten – rather than bringing happiness, this may complicate their grief, and it’s not fair to a new animal to come into this type of situation.  Be mindful of other animals in the household who may also be grieving the loss, and think about whether a new pet would help them or whether it would add to their stress.

Think carefully about what kind of an animal you want to get.  You may love a certain breed or coloring, but be aware that just because you adopt another animal that may look like your lost one, the new one will not be a carbon copy of your lost pet.  He will be his own, unique personality and the two of you will form your own, unique relationship. 

Ultimately, I believe that you “just know” when the time is right.  Or, alternatively, a new animal will find you.  Opening your heart to another and beginning the joyful journey of getting to know and love a new animal companion in no way diminishes the love you had for your lost pet.   Lost love and memories can beautifully coexist with new love and happiness.

The photo above is of Allegra, our new family member.  We lost Buckley Thanksgiving weekend of 2008.  I had just begun to think about  bringing another cat into Amber’s and my life when I met Allegra.  After two visits with her, I just knew.  And for the last ten days, we’ve been getting to know this lovely little kitten and integrating her into what is now becoming a family of three again.

I’m excited to announce that Buckley’s Story is featured in Barnes and Noble’s Rising Star Special Collection.   Another milestone along this amazing journey!   Not only is it an honor to be part of this collection, but it could also potentially open the doors to nationwide distribution at Barnes and Noble stores for Buckley’s Story. 

As an independently published author, I knew from the very beginning that I would have to do most of the promotion and marketing for my book myself.  And I was okay with that, I enjoy doing it, and I’m reaping the rewards of my hard work as I’m watching Buckley’s Story become more and more successful.  But there is one hurdle that can be very difficult to cross for indie authors, and that’s getting into national bookstores.  Currently, Buckley’s Story is available in several Barnes and Noble stores in Northern Virginia, and it can be special-ordered at any bookstore across the country, whether it’s Barnes and Noble, Border’s, Books-a-Million, or independent bookstores.  

As the indie movement in the music industry showed us, grass roots support can make or break a band.  Indie publishing is not that different in this respect – word of mouth from readers helps create buzz for a book, and the more that buzz builds, the more successful it will be.  And that’s where you, dear readers, come in!  I’ve been told by my publisher that Barnes and Noble buyers watch this Rising Star Collection page closely.  Traffic and demand coming through this page is an instrumental piece when a buyer is considering stocking a title in a store.

So, for the month of April, I would love it if you would help me get Buckley’s Story into stores by clicking on the Rising Star Collection link.  Click on the link, and click through to my book from there.  Click every day, and click often.   

Thank you for supporting Buckley’s Story and my dream!

Making a decision about whether it’s time to let a beloved pet go is one of the hardest things anyone loving a pet will have to go through.  What can compound the difficulty of the decision is that most pets don’t like going to the vet’s.  I’ve heard from many of my readers that, until they read Buckley’s Story, they had no idea that having a pet euthanized at home was even an option.  

I write in Buckley’s Story: “There was never a doubt in my mind that when the time came, Buckley would die at home. I had never been comfortable with euthanasia done in veterinary clinics. Even though I had assisted with many of them in my years of working at animal hospitals, and they were usually peaceful experiences, I did not like the idea that an animal’s last moments would take place in such a sterile and unfamiliar setting. No matter how peaceful veterinarians and staff try to make this final transition, most pets are stressed by veterinary hospital visits, and pet owners can be left with their final memory being one of a stressful experience instead of the peaceful one it can be when done in the pet’s home.”

There are few veterinarians who offer home euthanasia. Those that do generally don’t advertise the fact.  I feel that asking a veterinarian whether they offer this service is extremely important while the pet is healthy, rather than waiting until there is a need for the service and then to find out that it is not available.

Home euthanasias can make the final good-bye a peaceful, and sometimes even beautiful, experience.  There will not be a stressful or upsetting car ride.  You won’t have to see healthy pets or other pet owners as you walk into the clinic with your pet for the last time.  By gathering family members around the pet, you can create a calming atmosphere and surround the pet with what she’s familiar with, providing comfort and support.  You can even have the euthanasia conducted outside in the pet’s favorite spot in the yard.  In home euthanasia also allows you to create a ceremony that suits your personal and religious beliefs.  You will be able to spend as much time with the pet’s body after the ceremony as you need to without being disturbed by veterinary staff.   You will be able to grieve in privacy and on your own terms.

I recently came across an online In Home Pet Euthanasia Directory and wanted to share this valuable resource with you.  The site is still under development, and not every state is showing listings yet.