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Reflecting on the Qualities of Your Pet

As the turmoil of your loss gradually begins to settle, bringing much-needed moments of calm, you may wish to reflect on the very special and unique qualities you valued throughout your beloved pet’s life.

You may feel drawn to write a few lines, even a poem, or to lodge your thoughts on one of the pet bereavement memorial websites to be found on the internet. Or it may feel more natural to simply know it in your heart and mind. Either way, taking the time to think about your companion animal’s particular qualities can facilitate the gentle healing the grief process offers. One couple share how they remembered their much-loved cat called Star:

Our beloved cat Star, aged 17 years, died of feline leukaemia, which did not appear until the last few months of her life, resulting in a large tumour growing inside her intestines, causing sudden weight loss and pain. From the moment she joined us, she became part of our family, and when the time came to have the vet put her to sleep, we decided we wanted it to take place in her own home. Yes, a visit to the surgery would have been a lot less expensive, but she was not a cat who travelled well in cars and the journey would have been stressful and uncomfortable, whereas we felt this was a way of easing the passage of her death by it taking place in a familiar place of settlement and love. As for our own easement, the following helped a lot:

• We told her it was her time to go, and her last few hours were spent with us.
• We held her when she passed away and felt her last breath.
• We buried her in our garden in one of her favourite places.
• We thought about her life and her special ways and wrote single-word descriptions on 17 stones as dedications to surround her grave.

We wrote the following poem as a tribute to her life:

To Star, Our Nearby Friend

Long will we remember you,

Dear companion of our days.

For many years you graced us,

With your presence and endearing ways.

Among your kind you were special to us,

Giving so freely your loyalty and trust.

For all life there comes a time to die,

But in our hearts, you are always nearby.

I am grateful to Liz Ive for sharing her thoughts and reflections on losing Star, and for the little gems she shared about what helped her and her husband during their bereavement.

Over the years I have certainly found it helpful to reflect and write about the many little creatures that I have loved and lost. This is a poem written way back in 1988, after my first pet bird, Sparky, died:

A Cockatiel Called Sparky

Called Sparky, for the spark in the eye,

And the questioning look that seemed to ask, “Why?”

Protective of Primrose, his mate in abode,

He ruled the roost and set the code.

Greeting us with squawks as we came home,

With Sparky around, you never felt alone.

Whistling tunes we heard many a time,

Starting him off, he would finish the rhyme.

Probably the noisiest bird we had here,

Brave and inquisitive, he rarely showed fear.

Sadly you’re missed, little bird, now you’ve gone,

In this world, it appeared, you weren’t to dwell long.

I want to remember the good times we had,

In fact, I remember none of them were bad.

You were always full of yourself, which is right,

You were a bird of fun, sharing, and delight.

Friendly, and firmly part of our lives,

With Primrose, who aptly was called your wife.

Now she sits with me, missing you, no doubt,

As she looks here and there and roundabout.

However, the times we all spent together so well,

As friends on this planet, where we dwell,

Were times not to be forgotten, but remembered with gladness,

Stronger and firmer than this sudden sadness.

In my heart I need to say “Thank you” to you . . .

For being what you were . . . a cockatiel through and through.

This moving poem was written by a vet about her wonderful black Labrador, who was a treasured friend from the day he joined her family on 21 January 2005 until he left this world on 17 August 2016, with his head resting on her knee, in the sunshine, surrounded by the people who loved him dearly in this life.

Frisby – Treasured Friend

A shoulder to cry on, a soft ear to bend.

Unconditional love from my Labrador friend.

Keeper of secrets and disastrous tales.

Late night protection from amorous males.

Running mate, partner, and chewer of shoes.

Producer of the most inappropriate poos.

Stealer of biscuits, Hoover for toast.

Frisby was the dog who was loved by us most.

Adventures with family, and singing for joy,

Pavarotti lives on in a black canine boy.

Swimming in France in his own special pool,

Polo at Cowdrey . . . that dog was no fool!

Model “patient” for children to practise their skill;

Knight, Dragon or Gruffalo, dressed up as they will.

Patient serenity at the end of his years, and still I mourn daily for those velvety ears.

A shoulder to cry on, a soft ear to bend.

To Frisby, I love you, my most treasured friend.

To conclude this chapter, I’m honoured to share a tribute written by my close friend Mel about her lovely dog, Mia, who was known and loved by many from early, very active puppyhood through to her more sedate years of maturity.

In Tribute to – Miakoda, the Singing Utonagan, Also known as Mia, but better known as Dippy!

On Thursday night, my return from work was met with an eerie silence . . . no singing Utonagan heralding my return home and her much-anticipated dinner.

I quickly scanned the garden—no Mia. I scanned the house—no Mia. Had she escaped again, as she used to do in her younger days, and was somewhere miles away wandering and hunting?

This time I took a better look in the garden, and there she was—in a cool and quiet corner; her life had clearly suddenly, unexpectedly, and hopefully painlessly, ended.

Dippy died as she had lived—independently, unexpectedly, outside, close to the Great Mother, and on her own terms.

When my friend and I collected her almost 12 years ago from Blackpool, the sweetest little puppy, the least wanted of the litter due to her “incorrect” markings, she “sang” all the way home, six very long hours. A sign of what was to come . . .

She grew up into a beautiful and independent girl—fearless, strong, and so very fast and fleet when hunting. She and her litter sister, Imana, the companion dog of my friend Sarah, shared many canine adventures together—escaping, wandering, playing, and generally getting into trouble.

Through the many trials and tribulations that naturally accompany a large, strong dog coming of age, Mia was a challenge, and allowed me to exercise and grow patience, tolerance, and ingenuity in offering her some degree of freedom balanced with safety and control. Life with Dippy was certainly never boring!

She is now resting along with her canine companions Shimba and Meg, three old ladies together. Her presence will be sorely missed, but her life was long, healthy, and happy, and she was loved.

Run free, dear Dip, finally liberated from the restrictions of age, arthritis, and human control!