There are few bonds as pure as that between a human and their pet. When I first met Cocoa and Butter, I had no idea they’d be the perfect mix of chaos and comfort. From their first tumble into the food bowl (yes, they ate what fell off the side without shame) to their triumphant zoomies that ended with them colliding into each other, Cocoa and Butter brought more laughter into my life than any stand-up comedy special could. I met them May 30, 2021, at just 10 weeks old. They were sister kittens, looking very different even though they came from the same litter.
While I was growing up, my parents did not allow our family to have pets, as there were five of us kids, and my mother and father explained that they did not want to take care of anyone else (mostly my mother, and she also pretended to be allergic to cats and dogs).
During the thick of Covid, my daughter talked my husband into getting kittens, as she needed "an emotional support animal," as she put it. So for the first time in our nuclear family, we got kittens. It took 6 months of adoption applications, though, because everyone in the world needed emotional support animals at that time! Here I was, 55 years old at that time, and had never had a cuddly animal to grow a relationship with! We were all over the moon with joy. My son, who was not living at home at the time, was truly allergic to cats, and had to deal with allergy pills, eye drops, and nose squirts when he visited home. Over time, with each visit, he became less and less allergic, though.
During the past year, a few of my closest friends have lost their long time companions. I was devastated for them. Now I understand from an empathetic point of view, how these creatures are, indeed, members of the family. My friends reported that their homes felt eerily silent, and how they expected to see their loved ones in a favorite spot, and I found myself instinctively avoiding conversations about their pets so I wouldn't trigger their sadness. Every time I sat down and chatted with my friends by phone, I half-expected their pets to appear out of nowhere with loud or soft proclamations of, "Do not ignore me over here!" It was a joy to get to know their pets over Facetime or Zoom. Slowly, I realized that my friends did indeed want to talk about their loved and lost pets.
They shared with me that some of the hardest parts about grieving a pet is that it’s in the small, absurd moments that they are missed the most. It’s not just the quiet nights or empty mornings; it’s the way they somehow made a pillow off-limits or how they always managed to ignore the people in the family unless there were snacks involved. The first time I visited my close friend after her dog Louis passed away, I was expecting to hear "treat" from a button on the kitchen floor. Yes, Louis was a dog who could hit buttons for requests! Even in the deepest moments of sadness, humor has a way of sneaking in.
As folks navigate the difficult first weeks without their beloved pets, I realized that healing comes in waves, just like with human losses. Sometimes it was a bittersweet chuckle over a photo, sometimes an outright belly laugh when retelling the story of the “Great Toilet Paper Incident of 2020,” when they unraveled an entire roll and paraded it like a victory flag. The memories started to become a source of comfort, like they were a parting gift left behind to help them through the loss.
So, to anyone mourning the loss of a pet, I offer this: let yourself remember all of it, the silly and the sweet. It’s okay to laugh at the memories that still bring tears to your eyes. Your grief is valid, and so is the joy they brought you. The love we give and receive from our pets isn’t just about companionship—it’s about those hilarious, messy, irreplaceable moments that make life richer. And even though they’re gone, those memories are ours to keep, forever.
So, hold onto that laughter and let it be part of the healing. After all, our pets would want us to remember them for their quirky antics, not just the quiet they left behind.
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
SuperiorSelf channel on Youtube
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
While I was growing up, my parents did not allow our family to have pets, as there were five of us kids, and my mother and father explained that they did not want to take care of anyone else (mostly my mother, and she also pretended to be allergic to cats and dogs).
During the thick of Covid, my daughter talked my husband into getting kittens, as she needed "an emotional support animal," as she put it. So for the first time in our nuclear family, we got kittens. It took 6 months of adoption applications, though, because everyone in the world needed emotional support animals at that time! Here I was, 55 years old at that time, and had never had a cuddly animal to grow a relationship with! We were all over the moon with joy. My son, who was not living at home at the time, was truly allergic to cats, and had to deal with allergy pills, eye drops, and nose squirts when he visited home. Over time, with each visit, he became less and less allergic, though.
During the past year, a few of my closest friends have lost their long time companions. I was devastated for them. Now I understand from an empathetic point of view, how these creatures are, indeed, members of the family. My friends reported that their homes felt eerily silent, and how they expected to see their loved ones in a favorite spot, and I found myself instinctively avoiding conversations about their pets so I wouldn't trigger their sadness. Every time I sat down and chatted with my friends by phone, I half-expected their pets to appear out of nowhere with loud or soft proclamations of, "Do not ignore me over here!" It was a joy to get to know their pets over Facetime or Zoom. Slowly, I realized that my friends did indeed want to talk about their loved and lost pets.
They shared with me that some of the hardest parts about grieving a pet is that it’s in the small, absurd moments that they are missed the most. It’s not just the quiet nights or empty mornings; it’s the way they somehow made a pillow off-limits or how they always managed to ignore the people in the family unless there were snacks involved. The first time I visited my close friend after her dog Louis passed away, I was expecting to hear "treat" from a button on the kitchen floor. Yes, Louis was a dog who could hit buttons for requests! Even in the deepest moments of sadness, humor has a way of sneaking in.
As folks navigate the difficult first weeks without their beloved pets, I realized that healing comes in waves, just like with human losses. Sometimes it was a bittersweet chuckle over a photo, sometimes an outright belly laugh when retelling the story of the “Great Toilet Paper Incident of 2020,” when they unraveled an entire roll and paraded it like a victory flag. The memories started to become a source of comfort, like they were a parting gift left behind to help them through the loss.
So, to anyone mourning the loss of a pet, I offer this: let yourself remember all of it, the silly and the sweet. It’s okay to laugh at the memories that still bring tears to your eyes. Your grief is valid, and so is the joy they brought you. The love we give and receive from our pets isn’t just about companionship—it’s about those hilarious, messy, irreplaceable moments that make life richer. And even though they’re gone, those memories are ours to keep, forever.
So, hold onto that laughter and let it be part of the healing. After all, our pets would want us to remember them for their quirky antics, not just the quiet they left behind.
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
SuperiorSelf channel on Youtube
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
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