Pet Project to Heal Grief

When Ed died, his lifelong friend and caregiver joined a hospital-organized bereavement group, in search of sympathy and understanding for the grief she felt over his loss.

She did not tell the other members of the group that Ed was a cat.

After a few meetings, she realized it was not going to work out.

There was so much about Ed she wanted to share. But after listening to heart-rending stories of losing a spouse or a child, how could she express her grief at no longer feeling the familiar tug of her tabby cat’s claws on her lap during the long winter evenings?

By the time she found her way to the Animal Bereavement Support Group, her suffering had grown worse.

“She was overwhelmed. Her grief was really impairing her life to the point that she couldn’t go back to work,” said Rebecca Lewis, a therapist with a doctorate in psychology who four years ago began what may be the county’s only ongoing pet bereavement group.

“She spent quite a bit of time with the group. Basically, we honored the animal’s life and the connection she had. We let her know that it was normal to go through the grieving process, that she was not the only one.”

Lewis began the group out of personal necessity, shortly after completing her postdoctoral internship in psychology. Her 14-year-old Persian cat, Puddin’, was deathly ill.

“He was my best friend. He’s been with me through everything. He always slept next to me every night. I decided I needed to talk with someone about this pain I was going through because I was not handling it well. The therapist I went to was nice about it, but she kept saying, ‘Tell me about other things. Tell me about your childhood.’ And I said, ‘You know, I really need to talk about my cat.’ ”

The world may be full of pet lovers, but Lewis could not find an outlet for her grief.

“I felt very patronized because the cat meant so very much to me. I needed to find a way to honor this cat’s life and what he meant to me. I needed a place where I could cry, where I could be in a safe arena. But my friends were sick of hearing about it. I decided I was going to start this group in my cat’s honor.”

After several missed diagnoses, it turned out that Puddin’ had diabetes. He’ll turn 19 this year, thanks to daily shots of insulin.

The Animal Bereavement Support Group meets Tuesday afternoons in Lewis’ Newport Beach office. There is no charge to participate, but she suggests a $10 donation to a favorite animal welfare organization.

Many of the group’s members are referred by veterinarians, who Lewis said often feel bad they cannot do more for grieving pet owners.

“Sometimes, veterinarians can come across to people as being very cold, but they’ve got a practice to run, and they are usually not able to give people the time they may need. When someone has to put an animal down, the doctor may give them a hug but then has to leave, so the pet owner is left there alone. The doctor feels bad, and the pet owner feels bad.”

Lewis helps group members devise ways to express their feelings for the dearly, such as writing a personal letter to the pet.

“That sometimes takes weeks; it can be very tough. Sometimes, they’ll bring the letter in here and read it to the other group members. If the pet had a favorite color, like a pink collar, I’ll have them bring in a pink candle. Somehow, burning the candle, almost in a ritualistic sense, brings closure and brings some healthy, cleansing tears.

“Then, I suggest that they gather their pet’s bowls and toys and put it all into a box. Some people donate them to animal shelters. When these things are out of their sight, it does help the healing process. And when they are ready to get a new pet, they start clean.”

With the loss of a cat, Lewis suggests planting catnip in a pot, painted with the cat’s name and a picture of its favorite food or toy. The plant is then offered to other cats to enjoy, as a memorial.

“For dogs, I’ve had someone take a whole basket of tennis balls to the bark park with the dog’s name on it and just toss all the balls out for the dogs to play with.”

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Group members share photographs and stories of their pets, which range from horses and iguanas to turtles and fish. And they often feel responsible for the loss, Lewis said.

“Some people feel tremendous guilt. Gates are left open; their dog jumped the fence or dug under the fence; the cat got out, and a coyote got it. But these are things in life that we can’t always control.

“When people have to put their pets to sleep, they’ll think about it, they’ll get a second opinion, they’ll set the time and say goodbye, but it still never feels right. There never really is a good time, and that’s what I try to tell them, that it’s normal to feel guilty. People have to go through all the different stages of grief. It’s really the same whether it’s a person or a pet.”

Profile: Rebecca Lewis

Age: 39

Hometown: Dallas

Residence: Newport Beach

Family: Husband, Richard

Education: Bachelor’s degree in fine arts, Southern Methodist University (Dallas); master’s degree in counseling, Pepperdine University; doctorate in psychology, California Coast University (Santa Ana)

Background: Raised with farm animals and pets; became a vegetarian at age 18; began working in marriage and family counseling, and began the ongoing Animal Bereavement Support Group in 1994

On pet loss: “A lot of people are hopeful that they’ll see their pet someday in heaven. It’s a healing thing for them to believe in, that it’s not a permanent separation. I personally do believe our pets have a soul, and I believe they go to heaven.”

Source: Rebecca Lewis; Researched by RUSS LOAR / For The Times