Anticipatory grief

It was a cold day in November, and we were staying at an Airbnb in North Wales. It was our third day, and we had been walking most of the day. As we rested for the evening, I noticed that Bruce, our nine-year-old Kerry Blue Terrier, was unusually tired. He had done a similar walk the day before, and the day before that, but he was used to that. Or so he was before this trip.

His tale was curled under his hind legs, and he was more subdued and tired. You may think, ‘Well, of course he was tired, he has just done three days walking!’ And maybe for most dogs, this would be an obvious conclusion, but not for Bruce.

I panicked, wondering if he was ill, but all other signs pointed to him being okay. So, I did the thing they tell you not to do: I went on Google to find my answers. What I found should have reassured me, as most articles did not point to anything sinister. Instead, the comments focused on ‘slowing down’, describing the signs as typical of dogs in their ‘senior years.’ It was in that moment that I experienced my first wave of what I would come to realise was ‘anticipatory grief.’ I did not know it then, but for the next eighteen months, I would be hyper vigilant and incredibly anxious; my grieving process had begun.

I became more aware that he was slowing down, his face was greying, and his arthritis was getting worse, and whenever he was out of sorts, it would send me into a mass panic. I tried to talk to people, but they did not understand. They wondered why I was thinking about him dying when he was still alive. I felt like I was spoiling the time we had together. This was strange and confusing, and it did not stop the thoughts coming alongside the intense emotions that hit me like waves.

I started to think there was something morbidly wrong with me, and as a therapist, I thought this was something I should be able to handle. I began to feel like a failure, and alone in this place; I did not understand.

Then one night, whilst feeling alone and upset, I turned to Google again. This time, I searched for therapists who specialised in pet bereavement therapy and was shocked to find several sites. I came across one and saw a poem that the therapist had written. Tears of relief rolled down my cheeks as I knew in that moment this therapist would understand. I did not hesitate; I emailed her immediately. I worked with her for 18 months.

My therapy helped me process my anticipatory grief and work through other experiences in my life that were connected. And when therapy ended, Bruce was still by my side. He died one year later.

Leaning into my grief, not rejecting it, or shaming myself for feeling this way, and the support I received, I believe, contributed to my healing process when the time came to say goodbye to Bruce. 

As a therapist already, this experience shaped me, and I have been passionate ever since in helping other pet owners navigate their grief, whether it occurs before, during, or after the loss of their pet. Sadly, there is still stigma about pet loss grief, but I am here to let you know that you are not alone.