Pet Grief
Pet Grief and Bereavement
For many people, the death of a pet is the loss of a deeply significant relationship. I have worked with a number of clients who have struggled after their pet has died, sometimes they have found the depth of their grief hard to manage, particularly when they have have felt that other people have not understood.
There is a strange discrepancy in the way society responds to our relationship with animals. While they are alive, we are encouraged to treat pets as members of the family. We buy them presents, include them in celebrations, photograph them and plan much of our daily life around them. Yet when they die, the significance of the relationship can suddenly be minimised. We may feel that there is an expectation for us to recover quickly or simply get another pet.
This is known as disenfranchised grief: grief that is not fully recognised, understood or supported by society. When our loss is not acknowledged by others, we may begin to question whether we are entitled to feel as devastated as we do. The grief itself is painful, but the sense that it has not been legitimised can leave us feeling even more alone.
Pets are part of our everyday lives. They offer companionship, affection, comfort and we can feel as if they really understand and love us. Their presence shapes our routines, our homes and are there when we go through difficult periods in life. When they die, we are not only grieving the animal we loved. We may also grieve the daily rituals, physical closeness, sense of purpose and the person we felt we were when we were with them.
Guilt is also common. You may question decisions about treatment or euthanasia, wonder whether you noticed symptoms soon enough or repeatedly go over your pets final days.
There is no correct way to grieve or timescale to keep to. Grief is unique to each of us. Therapy can offer a place where the significance of the relationship does not need to be justified or diminished. Our work would not be about putting the loss behind you, but about understanding the different layers of your grief and finding a way to live alongside what your pet meant to you.
What might pet grief therapy look like?
Our work will often begin with you telling me about your pet and the relationship you shared. I may ask about their personality, the part they played in your life and the memories that feel important to you. You may also want to talk about their death, including what happened and how you experienced it.
Pet grief often carries guilt. You may be questioning decisions about treatment or euthanasia. We can explore these thoughts together with curiosity and compassion, rather than judging or dismissing them.
There may also be difficult feelings about getting another pet. Some people worry that this would be disloyal or imagine that their previous pet would feel replaced or hurt. You might have found your pet’s death traumatic and be fearful about getting another pet. Therapy gives us space to understand what these fears represent and to consider how a new relationship can exist without erasing the one that came before.
If it feels helpful to you, we may create a personal ritual to acknowledge your pet and what the loss has meant to you.
I see my role as hearing your story, taking the significance of your loss seriously and allowing you the space and time to grieve. We will work at your pace, paying attention to what you need. Sometimes grief brings us back to the same memories, questions or parts of the story many times. Having the space to return to them without feeling that you should be further on can be an important part of the therapeutic journey.
Why pet grief matters to me….
I have always loved animals. My earliest memories nearly all involve animals. I grew up with three cats and a dog. I became a vegetarian at the age of eleven because I just couldn’t stand the thought of eating animals. They have always been a part of my life, whether that is walking down the road and stopping to talk to a dog or stroke a cat, or finding seven puppies in a plastic bag in a bin in Sicily and looking after them until they were old enough to be adopted.
In June 2025 our lovely cat Toffee died very suddenly from an aneurysm. It was stressful and very upsetting. She was fourteen and had had health issues for a few years. She died before the vet could get the line in to euthanise her, although thankfully she had been given pain relief. Simba died in April 2026 aged seven, after being diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. I found the decision to put him to sleep incredibly hard. Although I knew it was the kindest thing for him, for a long time afterwards I worried about whether he had been ready and whether he knew how hugely loved he was.
What struck me after both their deaths was how little I spoke to people outside my family about how sad I felt and how difficult I was finding it. I realised I was disenfranchising my own grief.
This combination of personal experience, my love of animals and my work with bereaved clients has made pet grief especially important to me.