Pets Grieve Too

We’ve always had two dogs at a time. Our first “two-some” were Tony and Doni. One day, while out of the house, the dogs went outside, via our dog door, into the fenced (and what we thought was a secured) backyard. They had never tried to escape before, but on this day they dug themselves out  and escaped.  

Tony was hit and killed by a car, and that driver chose not to stop and to help render aid. Luckily a policeman quickly arrived on the scene and found Doni circling, sniffing, and trying to nudge Tony awake. It was too late.

For several days after, Doni would go out to the fence (we had diligently secured the hole) where they dug out. He would cry and pace along the fence. He wouldn’t eat, and was visibly distraught that his playmate was no longer  with him.

Even though we were dealing with our own grief, it also became very clear that Doni was too. After consulting a few “doggie shrinks”, they each said the same thing,  "we needed to take Doni to “interview” new playmates asap". So we did.

We had many interviews with potential dogs, but Doni did not respond to any of them.  Then we met BoBo. Doni instinctually knew that Bo was his gal.  He immediately wagged his tail and perked up to his old self. Doni was telling us, loud and clear, that he had found his new playmate.

Fast forward 34 years, and now  Kona is grieving for Lucy. Lucy literally raised Kona for the past 8 years. He followed all of Lucy’s leads, from laying down to eat, sleeping on the back of the couch, and learning how to walk on a leash. Kona hasn’t known his life without Lucy.

So on June 18, 2024, 530 am it became was very clear that Lucy’s soul was needing to detach from her body, Kona howled when she howled. Kona barked when she barked, and Kona sat quietly as the vet eased Lucy's suffering. He sensed something had changed but wasn’t clear to him yet exactly what had.  

After Lucy died in my arms, we cuddled with her, talked to her and cried for her, and for us. Our crying made Kona nervous, unsure of what was really was going on. He quietly observed and very quickly sniffed Lucy’s body at the end. However Kona walked with us and we placed Lucy in our vets car, and when her sweet body was in the car, Kona jumped up and sniffed her one last time, as if saying I Love You.

As we watched the vet drive away with beloved Lucy, Kona didn’t want to go back inside until the car was no longer visible to us.  

In the first days after Lucy's death, Kona wouldn’t eat and was nervous being in the house. On the night that Lucy died, Kona slept, for the first time, in her bed.  We've noticed in the first 48 hours that Kona was happiest when he was out of the house.  

My instinct is to want to ease Kona’s grief and to immediately take interviewing for a new playmate. I want to bypass his pain and grief.   However, as I am sitting with my grief, I am allowing Kona the dignity to be with his grief, and he too, deserves to have this process.  

Kona’s love for Lucy is deep and profound. With compassion and aching hearts, Kona and the rest of our family, will inhabit grief one day at a time.

I know that at some point, our heartache will ease and loosen, but our Lucy will never be forgotten. I have learned that even after death, it is possible to continue to build new ways to connect with your pets.  It's an opportunity for me to illustrate that love never dies.  

Through storytelling, laughter and tears, each us, including Kona, will navigate our grief towards healing, while honoring Lucy and her love of life.