Gary Kowalski - Goodbye, Friend: Healing Wisdom for Anyone Who Has Ever Lost a Pet

The Souls of Animals

The Bible according to Noah:

Theology as If Animals Mattered

Science and the Search for God

Revolutionary Spirits:

The Enlightened Faith of Americas Founding Fathers

Earth Day: An Alphabet Book

Blessings of the Animals:

Celebrating Our Kinship with All Creation

Healing Wisdom for Anyone

Who Has Ever Lost a Pet

REVISED EDITION

Gary Kowalski

Copyright 1997, 2012 by Gary Kowalski

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, or other without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

The permissions acknowledgments on pages are an extension of the copyright page.

Text design by Tona Pearce Myers

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Kowalski, Gary A.

Goodbye, friend : healing wisdom for anyone who has ever lost a pet / Gary Kowalski. Rev. ed.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-60868-086-3 (pbk. : alk. paper)

1. Pet ownersPsychology. 2. PetsDeathPsychological aspects. 3. BereavementPsychological aspects. I. Title. SF411.47.K68 2012

Originally published in 1997 by Stillpoint Publishing

First printing of revised edition, March 2012

ISBN 978-1-60868-086-3

Printed in the USA on 100% postconsumer-waste recycled paper

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Some have left

and others are about to leave,

so why should we be sorry

that we too must go?

And yet our hearts are sad

that on this mighty road

the friends we meet can set

no place to meet again.

Translated from the Sanskrit by DANIEL INGALLS

EVERYTHING DIES: goldfish, great blue whales, friends, and people we love. There is a wistful sadness that accompanies the realization that all life must eventually come to an end. Accepting death and learning to live with joy in spite of it are difficult challenges, and this is true whether we are saying farewell to a person who has been close to us or to an animal that has been part of our family circle. The grief we feel when a relationship is severed can be intense.

This is a book for all those who have ever lost a cat, a dog, or another animal companion. These creatures are commonly called pets, a word that is related to petty, meaning small, insignificant, or subordinate. For centuries, animals have been regarded as the inferiors of humankind. Some advocates of animal rights argue that we should eliminate the use of the word pet entirely for this reason. But, of course, pet can also mean favorite, cherished, or especially near and dear, and it is for pet lovers in this sense that this work is intended.

That includes most of us. When I was a theological student, in training for my eventual role as a clergyman, one of my professors warned the pupils in his preaching class never to mention the topic of dogs during a sermon. The reason? Listeners would immediately begin to think of all the odd canine characters they had encountered throughout the years. Whatever point the minister was making would be gone for good as the congregation drifted away in reverie and reminiscence.

There was Flush, for example, a springer spaniel named for Elizabeth Barrett Brownings more famous dog (who was the subject of a full-length biography by Virginia Woolf). My mother remembers Flush from her childhood during the Depression. In those lean times, meat was hard to come by, and the dog learned to love vegetables instead the potato peels and carrot tops that were stewed for him along with the fruit from the peach tree out back. His ears were so keen that he could hear the telltale plump of a peach when it plummeted in the night. He ate so many of the overripe desserts that his teeth were set on edge, and my mother vividly recalls the poor creature moaning because of his sore gums even as he gobbled down the goodies. Some brute finally poisoned him. But for my mom (who currently has no pets, nor does she even like dogs in general), the memories of Flush are still fresh, after more than sixty years.

Most of us have known a dog like that or some other animal that has charmed its way into our hearts. The tears we shed when these creatures die are genuine, for our pets have an important place in our lives. Their gentle, trusting presence becomes a dependable part of our daily routine. They share our mealtimes and befriend us as playmates. They are with us on outings and adventures, and they accompany us in moments of quiet introspection. We sense the warmth of their affection and the depth of their loyalty, forming emotional bonds that can be as strong and nurturing as any other in life. When these attachments are broken, we can experience a sense of emptiness and loss. We may feel depressed, numb, lost, or angry.

For some people, the death of a pet may represent the greatest loss they have ever encountered. Not long ago, a college professor wrote to tell me about some informal research he had conducted at the university in West Virginia where he had taught for many years. It was his custom there to begin his introductory psychology classes by asking students to write down memories of their happiest or saddest moments.

Among women, he found, the saddest events usually concerned the death of a grandparent or another close relative. For young men, rather curiously, the saddest memories typically involved the death of a dog. He says he was never able to fully probe that response to account for the gender difference. What was striking was that when asked to recall their deepest personal sorrow, so many young adults would hark back to the death of a pet.

Acknowledging loss and the feelings that go with it are an essential part of healing. Expressions of grief are the way we move through our pain toward acceptance and resolution. We need the opportunity to cry, shout, or shake our fists, if we feel like it all healthy forms of catharsis and emotional release. It hurts, and we need to say so.

Even more, we need to have our feelings affirmed by others. Of course, no one else can fix whats wrong. There are no magic words anyone can utter that will fill the gap left when a good friend dies. Pets would be petty indeed if their loss could be so easily overcome. But while no one else can take away our grief, the care and concern of others ensures that we need not mourn alone. Knowing that others have wrestled with similar losses makes our own sorrow easier to bear.

Still, we may feel a little sheepish about sharing such a vulnerable part of ourselves. A reservation can arise an inner doubt. Wont other people think it odd to become so distraught over a mere animal? Some might consider it laughable. The humorist Garrison Keillor, for example, once wrote a comic sketch about a judge in a poetry contest who had to read through barrelfuls of bad verse, including some fairly amateurish elegies for departed critters. But even Mr. Keillor seems to understand that losing a pet can be wrenching and that there is nothing particularly funny about it. To his credit, he has written his own poem, In Memory of Our Cat, Ralph. Here is an excerpt: