ROTHENBURGER – Why we grieve for our pets as much as for humans

EVERY TIME I’m in Tanner’s old stall, or anywhere near it, as I was this morning, I feel heavy in my heart. Our beautiful buckskin ate there, rested there and, a year ago today, died there.

When I’d gone out to give him his breakfast a couple of mornings before that day it was obvious something was wrong. We, and our vet, nursed him through the day and through the cold winter’s night, but just as we thought there was hope, we lost him.

Tanner was a beautiful Quarter Horse-Thoroughbred cross who had lived with us for 30 years. I loved being with him when he came into his stall from the field for breakfast or dinner as much as I did riding him. I’d talk with him and hold onto him and put my face up to him and breathe in the wonderful smell of his coat and be thankful.

When people say a beloved animal is part of their family, it’s not an over-statement. I grieve for Tanner as much as I have grieved for friends and close family members.

It’s been the same throughout my life with the other horses and the many dogs and cats that have so enriched my time on this Earth. The feelings of my grief are deep, and sometimes I ‘ve felt guilty that it’s as deep as it is for my human loved ones.

I’ve lost parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, best friends, a brother, a grand-child and a child. Sometimes I’ve had the blessing of being able to say my goodbyes to them, other times not. It’s been the same, with the same deep sadness, with my animals.

It’s of some consolation that the experts say I shouldn’t feel silly or embarrassed about it. They say the intensity of grief, and its symptoms, are similar for losing a pet as for losing a person.

The animal members of our family are an integral part of our lives. They’re a part of our every day. They depend on us for everything, and we willingly give it. What we receive in return is unconditional love.

As I write this, our faithful, very funny and loving dog Reo is napping at my feet. He’s a good boy and he wants to be wherever we are. When I look at him, I smile and want to be where he is too, because he makes me happy.

Sadly, we all know there will come a day when we have to make a terrible decision — to actively participate in our pet’s passing. Even then, we do it out of love; we must judge when it would be more cruel to “keep going” than let them go peacefully. So we hold them, and look into their eyes, and apologize, and tell them “it’s OK” and “we love you,” and tell ourselves we’re doing the right thing. And afterward, we cry, second guess ourselves and wonder whether we decided too soon, whether there was something else we could have done to stop it from happening, at least for a while.

The experts who study such things say our feeling of loss for a pet — be it a dog, cat, horse, parrot, sheep or something else — can be even more intense than it is for a human. One of the several articles I’ve read on the subject, from Psychology Today, says this: “The grief we feel after losing a beloved animal can be as intense – or more intense — than the grief we experience after the death of a human being. But because society often places more value on human relationships, many people are embarrassed or confused when their emotions don’t seem to ‘match’ what’s expected.”

It goes on to say, “Studies show that our brains process pet loss much like any other form of bereavement. There’s no separate compartment in your mind that says, ‘This was just a dog,’ or ‘This wasn’t a real family member.’ Your subconscious only knows that someone you loved deeply is gone.”

So what can we do? We have to reconcile ourselves to the ultimate outcome but until then we can treasure them each and every day. We can treat them with respect, and do everything we can to make certain their lives are fulfilled, that they’re cared for through thick and thin, that the intense bond we share with them is a joyful one. We can try to live up to the high expectations they have of us. We can be forgiving of their imperfections, just as they are of ours.

Oh, yeah, and spoil them, just a bit.

And we can remember them, especially the good times we shared, and feel free to grieve when we must part. So, I grieve for Tanner every day, and think of him in our happy times, just as I do all the members of my family who have left too soon. And hold them, each and every one, close in my heart.

Mel Rothenburger is a former regular contributor to CFJC-TV and CBC radio, publishes the ArmchairMayor.ca opinion website, writes for the Kamloops Chronicle and is a recipient of the Jack Webster Foundation Lifetime Achievement Award, and is a Webster Foundation Commentator of the Year finalist. He has served as mayor of Kamloops, school board chair and TNRD director, and is a retired daily newspaper editor.  He can be reached at mrothenburger@armchairmayor.ca.