The Hardest Goodbye: Grieving the Loss of a Soul Pet
April 20, 2025
This past week, we said goodbye to our childhood dog — our best friend of 15 years. Writing that sentence still catches in our throats. We got her when we were young teenagers, and we basically grew up together. Every phase of our lives (the good, the hard, the chaotic, the beautiful), she was there. Always.
We walk past the spot where her bed used to be and instinctively look for her. We still pause before opening the front door, expecting to see her waiting for us with her little bark.
This grief? It’s real. And it’s messy.
This Isn’t “Just a Dog”
We’ve heard the phrases like “She had a good long life,” “You’ll get another one,” or the classic, “At least it wasn’t a person.” We know people mean well. But if you’ve ever truly loved an animal, you know that kind of love doesn’t slot neatly into categories.
She wasn’t just a dog. She was the one who curled up beside us when we felt anxious and like we couldn’t catch our breath. She was there for the heartbreaks, the all-nighters, the quiet Sunday mornings, and the dance parties in the kitchen. She witnessed parts of us that no one else will ever fully understand. And she accepted all of it without judgment, without conditions.
Losing her is like losing a chapter of ourselves.
When Grief Feels Quiet but Heavy
Pet loss is a strange kind of grief. It’s deeply personal and often deeply invisible. There’s no funeral, no bereavement leave. Just this lingering ache that shows up when you least expect it — like when you're vacuuming and find one last stray hair, or when you instinctively reach to grab two treats instead of one.
We’ve had moments where we felt silly for crying so hard. But then we remember: this was a 15-year love story. Of course it hurts.
And if you're going through this too, we want to say it clearly: your grief is valid. You're not overreacting. You're not being dramatic. You're heartbroken, because you loved deeply. That’s not weakness. That’s beautiful.
How I’m Coping (And How You Can Too)
Honestly? We’re still in it. We’re still figuring out what healing even looks like. But here are some things that are helping us, slowly, gently:
Talking about them – Even when it makes us cry. Telling stories keeps them close.
Letting ourselves grieve on our own timeline – No rushing. No forcing ourselves to be "okay."
Writing this post – Because if you're reading this and you're hurting too, we want you to know you're not alone in this kind of heartbreak.
Love Doesn’t End Here
They say grief is love with nowhere to go but we don't fully believe that. We think the love does go somewhere. It reshapes us. It softens us. It makes us more patient, more present, more human. The love our dog gave us — that unconditional, pure kind of love — is still with us. It’s just... quieter now.
If you’re grieving a pet right now, we hope you’ll allow yourself to feel it. Cry if you need to. Talk about them. Keep their memory alive in whatever way feels right. There’s no “right” way to grieve. There’s just your way.
And if no one has said it to you yet… we are so sorry for your loss. We know how big that loss really is. Your grief is valid. You're not overreacting. You're not being dramatic. You're heartbroken, because you loved deeply. That’s not weakness. That’s beautiful. You loved them well. And they knew it. That love will always, always matter.
