When Rover's life is over
By Mark Schwed
Palm Beach Post Staff Writer
June 13, 2006
Imagine this scenario: You've just buried your
mother, who succumbed to cancer after a long and difficult
battle. The phone rings. It's your longtime friend. You begin to
cry uncontrollably. She says, "You really need to get over it."
Heartless, right?
Now imagine that instead of your mother dying,
it was a family member who loved you unconditionally for 20
years, trusted you completely, was always by your side, happy to
see you every single day of his life, who never did you wrong.
What if that family member's name was Bosco
the dog?
Would you understand?
Pet owners say the answer, for the most part,
is no. People just don't get it. They see someone grieving over
a pet and wonder what all the fuss is about.
"They don't think you're crazy — well, yeah,
crazy," says Ellen Setliff, 53, of Palm Beach Gardens, who
nearly fell apart after her cat Blue Boy died.
She sought help through therapy at a pet-loss support group,
something unheard of just a few years ago.
Most people find other ways to cope. They make
scrapbooks and condolence cards, build living room shrines and
backyard graveyards — or just force a stiff upper lip.
While each human passing is duly noted in
death certificates and newspaper obituaries, there is no such
statistical tally of grief for the millions of animals who die
each year in America.
But they often leave a similar trail of tears
as human deaths — sometimes, even more. Because when pets die,
most owners are left to suffer in silence.
"Those who have lost a pet tend to have much
less support than someone who has lost a human," explains
Susanna Walker, a bereavement counselor who works at Hospice of
Palm Beach County and conducted group pet-loss therapy sessions
at Peggy Adams Animal Rescue League. (Peggy Adams is holding a
session tonight at 6; Walker is hosting another one tonight at 6
at Busch Wildlife Sanctuary in Jupiter.)
Experts say all people grieve differently, but
many experience a range of emotions that may include shock,
anger, denial, depression and guilt. Some even hallucinate.
A study by the American Veterinary Medical
Association says 30 percent of those who have lost pets
experience "severe grief." Symptoms include appetite loss,
sleeplessness, even feeling that life has lost its meaning.
One explanation may be that the way we relate
to animals has changed. Thirty years ago, no one took an animal
to a spa, or doggy day care, or for chemotherapy treatments at
the vet. And, we seem to be keeping the animals longer. In 1976,
the average age of a dog was 4 years. Today, it's between 8 and
12 years, Walker says.
When a pet dies, many people are inconsolable.
Walker says the best thing for them to do is talk. The best
thing for friends and family to do is be there for them.
"Don't try to fix them. Don't try to tell them
when they should be over it. Or how they should feel," Walker
says.
Do give them a hug, she says, and encourage
them to share stories.
"Just listen," she says.
BOSCO
'You open the door and they're not there. They're not at your
feet.'
For Bosco, the end came on June 29, 2004, at
3:35 p.m.
That was when Catherine and George Molloy of
Fort Pierce brought their beloved furry pooch to the vet to be
euthanized to end her suffering from cancer.
"She had been there many times," says
Catherine, 77. "She knew everybody. We put her on the table.
Then my husband went out. They give the injection and she just
goes to sleep. Very peaceful. I just kept saying, 'All your pain
is going to be gone, Bosco.' She was so happy. Just wagging her
tail."
After that, she and her husband went to the
car and "scream cried." The crying would continue, every day,
for one year.
They felt the loss from morning to night. "You
open the door and they're not there. They're not at your feet,"
she says.
Catherine, who adopted Bosco from a shelter 13
years ago, believes the dog helped strengthen their marriage.
They all took walks together and Bosco was a constant source of
amusement. "You have a closeness to your mate because you have
something in common you're talking about and laughing about."
To help ease the pain, the couple made a
condolence card to send to friends with a picture of Bosco on
the front, and loving memories on the inside.
George, 72, who scattered Bosco's ashes in the
back yard, says it was therapeutic to put Bosco's story down on
paper.
For those who say, "What's all the fuss? It's
just an animal," George says this: "They're missing the whole
point of unconditional love and trust."
And he's sure of one thing. He'll see Bosco
again — when he dies.
"I'm positive," he says. "She'll come running
up and say, 'What took you so long?' "
BLUE BOY
'I couldn't stop crying... I had friends laugh at me.'
At the Peggy Adams Animal Rescue League, the
folks at the pet-loss support group were just about to close up
shop when a woman walked through the door and burst into tears.
She was clutching an 8-by-10 picture of her
steel-gray cat, Blue Boy, who had been suffering from kidney
failure and a tumor on the jaw.
"I was just desperate," says Ellen Setliff,
53, of Palm Beach Gardens, who had her cat put down just days
before. "I couldn't stop crying. This about did me in."
Those close to her were not sympathetic. "I
had friends laugh at me," she says. She had read in the
newspaper about a support group for people whose pets had died.
"I was at wits' end. I just thought someone could give me a
reason why losing an animal that was 20 years old was so
devastating for me."
Slowly, the therapist drew it out of her. The
cat had belonged to her mother, who had died. Two in-laws had
also passed recently and both her children had finally left the
home for college.
"Losing my cat pushed me over the edge,"
Setliff says.
When she emerged from the group session, she
felt relieved.
"Her body language, everything about her, she
had perked up," says Christine Stickney of Peggy Adams. "It
really did work for her."
Blue Boy is buried at Setliff's summer home in
rural Daniels, W.Va. She had the vet freeze the body, packed it
in a cooler with dry ice, and had friends drive the remains to
Daniels. Blue Boy rests peacefully in her backyard pet cemetery,
which holds three other cats and a dog.
"I brought him home," she says.
SANDY AND STRESA
'People think it's weird, or don't understand
the tremendous grief.'
If not for Sandy the golden retriever, Robert
and Laura Harper would never have met, fallen in love, married
and built a life together.
Robert's dog, Sandy, loved to roam her Jupiter
neighborhood, making friends everywhere. On one of her walks she
passed by Laura's house while she was out front gardening. Turns
out Laura had a golden retriever, too — a boy named Stresa. And
another dog named Kasha.
Robert and Laura became friends. But then,
Sandy became sick. Cancer in her spine. Robert did everything he
could to save her, but finally, the end came. Robert was
devastated. He lost "my partner."
"It was right at the age where she was the
most intelligent, loving, giving," says Robert, 46.
Laura, 46, was there to console him, even
bringing over casseroles.
"When I got out of my grief and got more
normal, we started dating," he says. "We ended up marrying six
years ago."
"It was meant to be," Laura says.
They became one big happy floppy-eared family
— Robert, Laura, Kasha and Stresa — complete with a sign in
front of their house: "No home is complete without the
pitter-patter of doggie feet."
Laura, a teacher at Alexander W. Dreyfoos Jr.
School of the Arts, says her students would ask her whether she
had children. "I'd say, 'I have two kids with fur.' "
But just recently, it happened again. Stresa
got cancer and had to be euthanized.
Laura was so filled with grief that she had to
take time off from school. "I just told the kids we had a family
emergency. One class did ask why. I told them and started to
break down."
"People think it's weird, or don't understand
the tremendous grief. But I could understand my wife's grief,"
Robert says.
The day after Stresa passed, they attended the
group therapy session at Peggy Adams. It helped tremendously.
They have set up a shrine in their home. The
dogs' ashes are on the shelf. Each put together a book of
pictures and memories of their dogs. They still cry, but are
recovering, slowly.
"It's a hard price to pay for all that love,"
Robert says. "But it's certainly worth it. When you look back on
all the memories, it's wonderful."
When Robert and Laura die, they plan to be
buried with their pet ashes because, "We were always together in
life," Robert says.
SHAINA
'They are our teachers if we will allow them
to teach us.'
As a community relations worker at Hospice of
Palm Beach County, J.C. Stern of Boynton Beach knows about
grief. Yet when her 16-year-old long-haired dachshund Shaina had
to be euthanized, she felt she needed to talk.
"She was my baby," she says of Shaina, who had
a litany of health problems. "It was a loss."
So she and her mother went to the pet-loss
support group at Peggy Adams.
"Each person shared stories," she says of the
meeting. "It was kind of like a little family, facilitated by a
professional (bereavement counselor Susanna Walker) just in case
anybody freaked out, in case somebody was having a really hard
time with their grief. The death of one animal can bring up the
death of another animal or the death of a person. You don't know
where that's going to go."
She says people have a special relationship
with their animals, sometimes "a better connection than with
humans. They don't judge you. They don't care what you smell
like, what you look like, how much money you make or the color
of your skin. They are our teachers if we will allow them to
teach us."
She says the meeting was especially helpful
because these days, people don't have time, or take the time, to
sit and listen to each other. "People are lonely," she says.
"Especially elderly people."
Too often they grieve alone.
When friends heard about Shaina, they sent
dozens of cards. Her vet sent a single white rose with a "lovely
card." But the therapy proved even more consoling. "People used
to think you were nuts if you went to a therapist," she says.
"But just hearing somebody else share their story makes you
realize that you're not alone."
You can create an online memorial to your departed pet for free at at
www.ILovedMyPet.com.
For More Information Contact:
ILovedMyPet.com
Email: support@ilovedmypet.com
Internet: http://www.ilovedmypet.com/