Pet Loss: Is there a "normal" way to grieve?

Me with my first dog, little dog with big personality, who passed away at 14 years of age.

This is a question I hear often in the therapy room. When someone loses a pet, and their world comes crumbling down, sometimes worse than they had imagined, they start to wonder - is this normal? Am I overdoing it? To which, my short answer to them is always - no. There is no "right way" to grieve. In this post, I want to explain why losing an animal companion can hit so hard, what that grief can look like, and some gentle, practical steps for finding your footing again. You don't need to rush through this. You just need somewhere to start.

The Emptiness After

The house is too quiet. You still glance at the corner where the bed used to be. You still slow down at the door, half-expecting the sound of paws or a small voice asking for dinner. There is an emptiness, not just in the house, but suddenly life just loses its point.

If you've recently lost a pet, you may be surprised by how disoriented you feel. Not just sad, but unmoored. As if the shape of your days, and maybe a part of who you are, went with them. That feeling has a name. It's grief. And it makes complete sense.

Why Does This Grief Hurt So Much?

As an attachment-informed counsellor, I often explain it this way: your pet wasn't just someone you loved. They were someone you were attached to, in the full psychological sense of the word.

Attachment researchers describe a "secure base": a reliable presence we return to, that steadies our nervous system and makes the world feel safer. For many people, a dog, cat, rabbit or bird fills exactly that role. They greet you the same way whether you had a brilliant day or a terrible one. They don't judge your mood, your mess, or your mistakes.

There are a few reasons this bond can be uniquely strong:

• They were woven into your routine. Morning walks, feeding times, the evening settle on the sofa. When they go, it isn't one loss but dozens of small ones, every day.

• The love was simple. Human relationships carry history and complications. With a pet, affection is often uncomplicated, which can make it feel especially pure and especially missed.

• You were their caregiver. Being needed gives us purpose and structure. Losing that role can leave you feeling strangely aimless.

• They witnessed your life. Many pets accompany us through moves, breakups, new jobs, illness and loneliness. They hold years of your story.
  

So when people say "it's like losing a family member," they aren't exaggerating. For your nervous system, that's often exactly what it is.

"It was just a pet": Grieving When Others Don't Get It

One of the hardest parts of pet loss isn't the loss itself. It's how lonely the grief can feel.

Grief researcher Kenneth Doka coined the term disenfranchised grief for losses that aren't openly acknowledged or socially supported. Pet loss is one of the clearest examples. There's no bereavement leave. No wake. Colleagues may offer a quick "so sorry" and move on by lunchtime. Some people, even kind ones, say things like "you can always get another one."

When the world treats your loss as small, you may start doing the same to yourself:

• "I shouldn't still be this upset. It's been weeks."

• "I cried harder over my cat than over some relatives. What's wrong with me?"

• "I can't tell people at work. They'll think I'm being dramatic."
  

I want to gently say: nothing is wrong with you. The depth of your grief reflects the depth of your bond, not a lack of perspective. Comparing griefs rarely helps, and there's no rule that says animal love must hurt less.

When grief has nowhere to go, it tends to go underground. It shows up as irritability, numbness, exhaustion, or a heaviness you can't quite name. Giving it permission to exist is often the first step towards it softening.

What Pet Grief Can Look Like

Grief isn't only an emotion. It's a whole-body, whole-life experience. You might notice:

• In your body: tiredness, a tight chest, changes in appetite, broken sleep, or feeling physically "heavy."

• In your mind: replaying the last days, difficulty concentrating, forgetting they're gone and then remembering all over again.

• In your emotions: sadness, yes, but also anger, numbness, relief (especially after a long illness), and guilt about feeling relief.

• In your routines: not knowing what to do with mornings or evenings, avoiding certain rooms, or being unable to put their things away.
  

The Weight Of Guilt

Guilt deserves its own mention, because it's one of the most common things I hear. Should I have noticed sooner? Did I choose euthanasia too early, or too late? Was I there enough at the end?

If you made a decision about euthanasia, you carried a responsibility most relationships never ask of us. You chose to take on pain so that they wouldn't have to suffer. That decision, however it felt, was made from love. Guilt is often love looking for somewhere to land.

Waves, Not Stages

You may have heard of the "five stages of grief." In reality, grief rarely moves in a neat line. Researchers Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut describe it as an oscillation: we move back and forth between leaning into the loss and stepping back into everyday life. Both are healthy. A good day doesn't mean you've stopped caring, and a hard day doesn't mean you're going backwards.

Finding Your Footing: Gentle Action Points

There's no fixing grief, and no correct timeline. But there are ways to carry it a little more gently. Take what's useful and leave the rest.

1. Name it as grief. Say it out loud or write it down: "I'm grieving." Naming an experience helps the brain organise it, and it gives you permission to treat yourself the way you'd treat a friend in mourning.

2. Rebuild your anchor points. Your pet structured your day more than you realised. Keep a few anchors: a morning walk on your own, a set time for a cup of tea in the evening. Routine steadies the nervous system while emotions are moving.

3. Take your time with their belongings. There's no deadline for packing away the bowl or the blanket. Some people find comfort keeping one item visible; others need a clear space. Both are okay. Do it when you're ready, ideally with someone beside you.

4. Create a small ritual. Rituals give grief a container. Light a candle, plant something, scatter or place their ashes somewhere meaningful, make a photo book, or write them a letter. Sharing it with family can help children and partners grieve too.

5. Tell the story. Write down how they came into your life, their quirks, the funny habits, and yes, the last days. Telling the full story, including the hard parts, helps your mind process what happened rather than replaying fragments of it.

6. Choose your listeners. Not everyone will understand, and that's okay. Seek out the people who do: fellow pet lovers, a friend who met your companion, or online and in-person pet loss support communities.

7. Look after the basics. Grief is tiring. Eat regular meals, get outside in daylight, move your body gently, and protect your sleep where you can. Small physical care makes the emotional load easier to bear.

8. Talk back to the guilt. When the "what ifs" start, ask: What did I know at the time? What was I trying to do? Most of us were doing our best with the information and love we had.

9. Hold off on big decisions. You may feel pressure, from yourself or others, to adopt again quickly, or to swear you never will. Both can wait. A new companion is a new relationship, not a replacement, and you'll know when you're ready.

10. Let the bond continue. Grief researchers call this continuing bonds: staying connected to those we've lost rather than "letting go." Talking to them, marking their birthday, or carrying their lessons forward isn't a sign you're stuck. It's often how love finds a new form.
    

When Grief Gets Stuck

For most people, the sharp edges of pet grief soften over time, even if the love and the missing remain. But sometimes grief gets stuck, or it opens a door to something older.

This is something I see often in my work. Losing a pet can reawaken earlier losses: a parent, a relationship, a childhood pet whose death no one helped you through. If you grew up learning to "be strong" and keep feelings to yourself, this loss may be the first time grief has had a chance to surface. That can feel overwhelming, and confusing.

It may help to speak with a counsellor if, after several weeks or months, you notice:

• You're struggling to get through work or daily tasks

• Guilt or self-blame feels relentless

• Images of their final moments keep intruding, especially after a sudden or traumatic death

• You've withdrawn from people or things you used to enjoy

• Sleep, appetite or energy haven't started to recover

• The loss has stirred up other grief you didn't expect
  

Reaching out doesn't mean you're not coping. It means you're taking your grief, and yourself, seriously. Therapy offers a space where your loss is never "just a pet," and where you can make sense of the story at your own pace. Approaches like EMDR can be especially helpful when the memories of a death are distressing or keep replaying.

If you ever feel unsafe or have thoughts of ending your life, please reach out immediately. In Singapore, you can call the Samaritans of Singapore (SOS) 24-hour hotline at 1767, or go to the nearest A&E.

You Don't Have To Find Your Way Alone

Feeling lost after losing your pet isn't a sign of weakness or over-attachment. It's a sign that you loved well, and that they mattered.

The path forward isn't about forgetting them or "getting over it." It's about slowly learning to carry their memory in a way that feels less like a wound and more like a warmth. Some days you'll take two steps forward and one back. That's not failure. That's grief doing what grief does.

Be patient with yourself. Keep the anchors. Tell the story. And let the people who understand walk beside you. Love, C

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If you would like to talk about your triggers, please reach out to me at chitra@liminalmindcounselling.com, WhatsApp at +65 8829 9343 or book an appointment via the appointment booking system on the website. We offer online and in-person counselling sessions in Singapore.

If you need urgent assistance, please reach out to your nearest hospital or you may reach out to the following helplines -

• National Mindline 1771: 24/7 mental health support (Call 1771, WhatsApp 6669 1771, or via mindline.sg).

• Samaritans of Singapore (SOS): 24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention at 1-767 or WhatsApp 9151 1767.

• Institute of Mental Health (IMH) Helpline: 6389 2222 (24/7).
  

Chitra Thakore, Trauma and Attachment-informed Counsellor, Founder of Liminal Mind Counselling, Singapore