On the Clock: What My Dogs Do When Grief Walks In

If you saw my previous content, you may have met Manolo. I want to show you what he is like when he is on the clock, and introduce you to the dogs who came before him, because every one of them has helped clients in session in their own particular way. I also want to talk about why the work they do matters most in a kind of grief that people rarely give themselves permission to name out loud: the grief of losing an animal.

What My Dogs Actually Do During a Session

None of them were ever taught this. They are guide dogs first and foremost. However, each one simply found their own way of being useful in a room full of feeling. Shannon used to try to climb straight into a client’s lap, as if comfort were something you could deliver in full by sitting on someone. JoEllen had strong opinions about loud swearing and would let a client know it, which more than once turned a hard session into a shared laugh. Fletcher would lie across a client’s feet and stay there for the whole hour, a warm, quiet weight. And Manolo, who works with me now, usually rests on his own dog bed beside my chair, watching. It is hard work greeting a client with so much zest and exuberance. At times when a client shows sad emotions, he will get up just long enough to rest his head on their knee. If they are more emotional, he will lie down again with his head on their feet instead. None of them needed a cue from me. For clients who are grieving a pet, watching an animal choose to comfort them does something a conversation cannot do on its own. It is proof, right there in the room, that connection with an animal is real. It confirms that it counts, and that missing it is not something to explain or apologize for.

Why Pet Loss Grief Gets Minimized, and Why I Think That Is Wrong

I frequently hear versions of the same sentence: “It was just a dog. I should not be this upset.” Or, “This has been the hardest loss I have experienced, harder than the death of a human loved one.” They say that others act like they are overreacting. Well meaning friends and family often try to soften a pet loss by comparing it, replacing it, or rushing past it, and the result is that people end up grieving quietly, on their own, ashamed of how much they hurt. But a pet is not a possession you replace. A pet is a relationship, often one of the steadiest and most unconditional relationships a person has. Many clients tell me their pet knew them better than most people did, was there through the hardest years of their life, or was the last living connection to a parent or a partner who is gone. That kind of bond deserves the same care as any other loss, not a smaller version of it.

What People Feel Most Alone In

The loneliest part is rarely the loss itself. It is the sense that no one around them understands why it hurts this much. Clients describe going back to work the next day because pet loss does not usually come with bereavement leave. They describe the strange guilt of grieving a decision they had to make for a suffering animal. They describe missing a routine as much as they miss the animal, the walks, the sound of nails on the floor, the weight at the end of the bed. Naming these things out loud, in a room where an animal is treated as a full member of the family rather than an afterthought, is often the first relief a grieving pet owner has felt in weeks.

Why Pet Loss Gets Its Own Space

Pet loss grief deserves its own space in grief work because it is its own kind of loss, with its own timeline, its own complications, and its own particular loneliness. You do not need to justify how much this hurts. If you are grieving a pet, or bracing for a loss that has not happened yet, there is no shame in grieving for a pet. They too are a beloved member of your family. If you would like support, pet loss counseling in Colorado is one place to start.