I love having guest contributors to the Two Hearts Pet Loss Center blog and site. Such an honor to share their viewpoints and perspectives, and to bring to you, the reader, additional information and other lens to navigate and process pet loss. Thank you, Eugene, for sharing your heart.
A bit about Eugene Veger. He is the founder of TailChapter, where families keep their pet’s story — photos, records, and memories — and create a free memorial page when the time comes. He built it after realizing that from an entire childhood with animals, exactly one photograph survives. He lives in New Jersey with his family.
I’ve lost three animals. Only one of them died.
Pif was a small white dog, and he died young. That one people understand. When I say Pif died, nobody asks me why I still think about him fifty years later. There was a body. There was a date. There was something that happened.
The other two are harder to explain.
Iva was a collie, orange and white. We had her for about a year. I was eight. What I remember is snow — she’d herd me toward the biggest pile in the yard, come up behind me, and shove me into it. Then she’d steal my boot and run it back to the house and wait by the door, pleased with herself.
Then our circumstances changed, and there was no one home who could care for a young dog. My mother found another family. It was the right decision. It was also the last time I saw her.
Rena was a Siberian cat, gray and white, and she slept at my feet for more than ten years. After I finished school, we moved. Somewhere in all that, she went out and didn’t come back. No body. No date. Nothing to bury. I still don’t know what happened to her.
Here’s what I’ve noticed. When people say pet loss, they mean death. The sympathy cards, the clay paw print, the grief support groups — almost all of it assumes there was an ending you could point to.
But grief doesn’t check how the animal left.
The dog you gave up because you got divorced, or sick, or evicted, or because your kid turned out to be allergic — you don’t get to grieve that one out loud. The first thing people hear is that you chose it. So you keep quiet and you carry it anyway.
And the cat who walked out one morning and never came home — you don’t get to grieve that either, because it never officially ended. You just stop waiting, slowly, for years, and nobody sends a card for that.
I have exactly one photograph from my entire animal childhood, and it’s Pif’s. Nothing of Iva. Nothing of Rena. Ten years of that cat sleeping at my feet and I cannot show her face.
So, I’ll tell you instead. She was gray and white, she disappeared for days every summer and came back starving, and she answered nobody but me, and only at night.
That’s a memorial too. It just doesn’t come with a date on it.
My heart breaks when I hear people talk about saying good-bye to their precious pet loves during this time of social distancing.
After euthanizing three beautiful loves in our own family in a span of eighteen months, to not hold their heads in my hand and telling them over and over and over and over again how much I love them would have been awful. For all of you going through this now, my heart breaks with you.
I took some time when all of this started to record ideas for both loving pet parents and veterinary professionals on how to still create a beautiful experience in saying a final good-bye to a beloved pet. You can see them here on my learning site: https://twoheartspetlosscenter.thinkific.com/collections as well as some beautiful downloadable guides and readings. Please use all of the information there!
Even with all of this, there’s still an open wound, one that eats away at a pet lover’s heart with guilt to not be with the pet for their final breath. However, as I’ve said in all of the articles and helpful videos, there’s always a “can” in the prescribed “cants” with the revised protocols for veterinary professionals and social distancing. There’s always a can.
Here’s what you CAN do. And, I share this with you from MY experience and what’s been helpful and healing for us. If your appointment for euthanasia was at your veterinary clinic, then take your beautiful love home for your own version of a wake or visitation.
Take. Them. Home.
If your final appointment to say good-bye was in the comfort of your own home, then keep your fur-baby home with you.
Keep. Them. Home.
I’m telling you, from my heart to yours, this is one of the most beautiful memories we have with our precious loves. This is OUR time, to slow down and say good-bye. To share memories. To laugh. To cry. To toast a life shared. This is OUR time.
Possibly you want to know “what do you do with them? How do you hold their bodies? Is there any issue with their deceased body?” We keep our pets in their own little beds, where they liked to sleep. For Ellie and Harry, we left them in our bedroom, where they were comfortable in their bed and we moved around them. We ate dinner in our bedroom, we shared our memories there, and we did our wine toasts there. We took breaks, knowing we could go back to our bedroom when we needed to say another “I love you” or spend a bit of quiet reflection time.
For Crisco, our little guy, he was in his bed. We took him wherever we went throughout the house and had him with us. I remember our last morning with him. It was a gorgeous, peaceful Dallas morning, and we had our coffee and final good-byes on our back veranda. The sun was out, and it was just spectacular. We felt like the sky had opened up to welcome him Home, with the sun rays as his guide.
We keep them home for 2 days, with no issues with their bodies. Most certainly, there might be a slight smell after time, but as a pet lover who isn’t used to smells, right?! And, then when WE are ready, we take them ourselves to the crematory. It’s all on OUR time.
It’s also time for our other pets to say their good-bye. And, in their classic way, even if they didn’t get along, they still pay their respects. Classic, beautiful animals.
There is a “can” in all of this. And, I can also share with you that for the countless families I’ve suggested this to, everyone of them has said to me “thank you! I didn’t even know I could do that, and it was the best ever. Thank you.”
I share my heart with you, and my suggestions. As there is a way to still do everything you can in saying good-bye to a precious love.
I wish I had a dime for every time I’ve been asked this question.
I’m not sure if people believe there are some rules as to the perfect time, or if societal rules are our there somewhere on the protocol here.
Oh, by the way, you remember my thoughts about society’s rules on pet loss. From what I’ve mostly found, these are written by non-pet lovers. The people who don’t get what we are going through are the ones who have the loudest and most aggressive opinions on what is right and wrong when it comes to this subject! Always remember that when people tell you how you should feel, what you should do, and what is the RIGHT thing to do here, you do what’s right for you. Permission to do just that. Period. Rant over on that subject!
So back to the question: when is the right time to get rid of our precious love’s items? Their food bowl, toys, beds, collars, leashes, Christmas stocking, ornaments, and the list can go on and on. (Well, at least it does in our home with all their possessions!)
At least for me, I have never even contemplated this question with anything other than possibly “never” or “maybe sometime.” Our house still has every food bowl lined up in our kitchen from the animals. Mico’s bowl, even after 16 years sits in the same spot. Not sure how and why this started, but Mico would eat her meals in the bathroom while we got ready for work. Beautiful time to spend together in the morning, so to this day her bowl always gets placed in our bathroom. Mike the Dog’s bowl is still in use, and Crisco and Ellie’s bowls look like they always did. I’m sure our house is like yours; mealtime is FUN and exciting! Therefore, the bowls are just a small reminder to us of the dancing and chaos that happened every morning and evening for the “feeding of the livestock!” I love that!
For everything else, we have mostly kept all their special items. The leashes and collars are stacked up on the hanger, the toy box is overflowing with all the toys from years past. It gives me such comfort to see these things, and to have these reminders that it was all real. The laughter. The toys. The walks. It was all real.
So, when do you get rid of their things? When you feel it’s the right time. Or never.
It’s been over a month since we said good-bye to Crisco. He was a part of our world for 16.5 years, and even though he was only 6 pounds, he was six thousand pounds of personality and spirit. He ruled the house, well at least up until a few months ago when the new puppy came to our house, not realizing Crisco was King.
By then, Crisco was really showing signs of age and the old pack who knew him as King was gone. Therefore, organic behavior for Albert was certainly to not even remotely recognize Crisco was the alpha. But it was still cute to watch Crisco try to fill that role.
Nonetheless, the last few months before we said good-bye to Crisco were difficult in watching him age, continue to struggle with the onset of dementia, and really spiral down in his quality of life. Banging into walls when he walked, in a home where everything was the same for the 5 years we’ve been here, to watching him struggle to find his food and water, it was all so heartbreaking to watch. And, if you’re reading this and asking the universe “well, why didn’t you do this,” or “you know you could have tried this,” I can assure you we did and tried everything to keep him comfortable in a way that was “him.” I, too, find myself internally asking questions of others when I hear stories like what I just shared, and subconsciously judging. A completely normal response, for sure, however I’m learning to hold my tongue and thoughts as it is easy to judge from sidelines when it’s not yours.
So, with all of that, and knowing how the final few months of his life looked, I am really okay with him being in a better place. His life at the end was not the life he was about. We really did have to have a heart-to-heart talk with ourselves at the end and ask ourselves if we were keeping him here for us, or for him. It was for us, at that point.
Therefore, I am at peace and am okay with his passing. I feel guilty for that sometimes. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him, that I still love him, and that I wish he could have been like he was in his prime. I still have those feelings too.
But I just want to know it’s okay to be “okay.” Because I am.
It was a hard week with our precious 16 ½ year-old Crisco’s death. He was a huge chapter in our life, and so many memories and passages were marked with his presence. Now we honor him, and every day are reminded of his presence in a new and different way, with his absence. Even though he didn’t do much in his final few months, he was still a very large spirit in our home and the void we feel is still overwhelming.
He was the third furry-family member for us that died in a bit over 16 months’ time span. Our hearts are damaged, shattered, and broken. All of them were such huge parts of our world.
With each of them, I learned a lesson on “the end.” Each time I thought about what I would do different the next time, and I noted some things I would do the same. However, as much as I planned for those things, every time I still had things that just didn’t let “the end” happen in the way I structured it! Maybe that’s one of the lessons, too. We’re not in charge! Okay, God. I got it.
But here’s what I did learn with Crisco’s death:
He was ready to go, and in the past few months of his life he was only existing. And, THAT is not how he lived his life. So, letting him be free was THE right thing to do. For him.
While it seemed cold and calculated to plan for the appointment, planning around our travel and upcoming schedules, it was what it was. It HAD to be done that way or we were going to find ourselves at the mercy of letting anything and everything else control us, and this. That was more unacceptable than us planning and calculating his death.
We constantly asked ourselves throughout the day as to what we could be doing to make his final physical existence with us be memorable. I call this my “six-month rule.” What will I look back on six months from now and be thankful I did, or possibly regret? I covered all those bases in our thoughts throughout the day. A walk to the park, letting him feel the sun on his face, and spending time walking around the house telling stories… Beautiful time spent “just being” together.
We took time on his final day and found all those things he used to love to do… his favorite toys, bed, blanket. All the things that meant something to him, and to us. Years ago, I had hidden away a stuffed snowman, a silly little free Heartgard toy that he just loved! He loved the stuffing out of the one in the toy box, but I knew I would want to keep that for us. I knew one day, he’d need one for his final journey, so that stuffed snowman came out of hiding to serve its intended purpose.
He was comfortable in a fluffy blanket as we waited on Dr. Kim to make her way to the house. We told him we loved him, over and over again, repeatedly. We told him to find Ellie and Harry, and to go be with Grandma Sharlene.
Our ritual with our deceased animals is that they spend a day or two at our home, still with us in their physical being so we can prepare our hearts for the new normal, the days to follow where those beautiful bodies would be in our hearts only in spirit and memories. We put him comfortably in one of his beds, tucked in his blanket with all his favorite toys around him. His final night with us he slept in the bedroom with us, so it could, for one last time, feel like the “old normal.”
We gave the other animals their time with him, to confirm his death, and to pay their respects or sit their vigils in the way a pack member does for their own. Many times, we caught them, standing and sitting vigil, sniffing him, and just getting themselves ready for their new normal without this pack member being around. Even though none of these animals really truly liked each other, the one thing I love about animals is how they show respect!
We took the last morning with him at our home to share our final stories and spend a bit of quiet time over a cup of coffee to let him know how much we already missed him and would always love him. We eased our hearts into the morning for the finality of the reality.
We wanted to control every aspect of his final journey, so we took him to the pet funeral home, leaving nothing to chance in how he would be treated in the end. We never wanted to have the thought of “I wonder….”
And, then we gave ourselves permission to grieve, and to mourn. We let the tears fall, and we allowed ourselves time to laugh. We set up all his photos, more than normal, and we told him in his new plane of existence how much we loved him. We supported each other and encouraged the tears.
I don’t like death just like the next person. However, I wasn’t in charge of creating that rule! It is a part of life, and I will take these lessons into my own being, because of him and them. With that, I will be a better companion to those that need me when they are on this journey, and I will share my light with them.
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