How much can you mourn a pet?

There was an interesting article in the news this morning about mourning, following former British politician, Lord Hattersley's, letter of his grief at the loss of his pet dog.

I thought this to be a very striking article, both the article itself and the comments that accompanied it from readers. I was very surprised by it, but also quite struck. I myself still have a cat who my family adopted when I was 4 or 5. We are now both in our twenties. Of all the members in my family Cocoa (the cat) hung out with me the most. We had a very close friendship growing up. When I called her, with a whistle, she would come in a minute. But my dad or brothers or any of my other family could rarely get her to come. I was also the only one who could pick up the feisty cat.

When I left home to start university, Cocoa started mourning my loss. She cried (or mewed as a cat will do) all day, she stopped eating and drinking. She is a small cat but lost nearly 3lbs over the first 2 months I was a way at school. She didn't know I was just at school, for her it was the same as a death. I was gone. As far as she knew, never to return. From that experience I am quite struck by the fact that animals are just as emotional as humans.

And this is the part that I think makes mourning a pet so difficult. No one could tell her I was just gone for a little while and I would be back. No one could help comfort her that it was okay to miss me. There was little consolation for her. And yet, whenever I was sad, she knew just how to tell me it would be okay, just how to help me put things in perspective. In the article, it was noted by Lord Hattersley that when his father died his dog was there to help him mourn. But now that his dog has died, there is no one there to support him.

I think that mourning a pet is so difficult because we can't speak with them to be sure they know how much we love them. We can tell them, and they show us affection in return, but we are so unsure of the nature of the relationship. But there is also what a pet gives us. They bring regularity and continuity to our lives, we have to feed them, walk them, play with them and that doesn't change (much). They are that friend who invites you out for a drink or a coffee after a break up. They help take your mind off your sadness in a way that few humans have the compassion to do for their friends or family, in a way few humans even recognize as important. Not to rag on humans. Many humans regularly fill this role too.

The article also talked about people being more affected by the death of a pet, than by the death of a mother or father. I thought that singularly interesting. I don't know, as my parents are young and healthy so I haven't had to mourn their deaths (and hope I won't for many years), but I think as we get older we drift apart from out parents. From childhood where we spend all day everyday with them, to adulthood where we spend weekends, to older age where we see them at holidays... our parents in many many cases become less of a companion to us as we grow older. But quite the opposite happens with a pet. We say "Familiarity breeds contempt" and with human relationships this is often true. But not with animals.

Further, an animal is not family like a parent or sibling, but family like a husband or wife. You chose to bring the pet into your life. At first you were strangers, but you brought your different life experiences together. So I think the mourning would be more similar to the mourning of a partner than a parent. Again I haven't had to mourn the death of a partner, but I have had to mourn (grieve) the end of a long term (well relatively long term considering my age...) relationship. And even that hurts, and takes a lot of work and time to heal from. And like the death of a pet, perhaps it is a hurt and a healing that is rarely recognized by others.

Now the article talks about taking a day off to grieve and such, which may be over the top. But I think like anything so long as it is only one day. My grandmother said, many times during her life; "When I die, you get one day to mourn. And then take out your glad rags and celebrate. Because I had a good life." And I think this was very good advice. Whether for our dear Ursula, for a pet, a parent, an end of a marriage, or an end of a friendship. We should take a day to remember that good life we had, to grieve our loss and to find a new perspective to continue our life. But then we must take out our glad rags, because like it or not, we must all live even after the loss or death of the ones we love.