Zoe
I
saw it firsthand after my cat Murphy died earlier this year. She’d been
diagnosed with cancer just weeks before. She was a small gray tabby with
delicate paws who, even during chemotherapy, climbed her favorite dresser perch
– Mount Murphy – with steady determination. The day after she died, a colleague
said with a shrug: “It’s just part of life.”
That
phrase stayed with me – not because it was wrong, but because of how quickly it
dismissed something real. Murphy wasn’t just a cat. She was my eldest daughter
– by bond, if not by blood. My shadow.
Why
pet grief doesn’t count
More
than two-thirds
of U.S. households include pets. Americans tend to treat them like family
with birthday cakes, shared beds and names on holiday cards.
But
when someone grieves them like family, the cultural script flips. Grief gets
minimized. Support gets awkward. And when no one acknowledges your loss, it
starts to feel like you weren’t even supposed to love them that much in the
first place.
I’ve
seen this kind of grief up close – in my research and in my own life. I am a
psychologist who studies attachment,
loss and the human-animal bond.
And
I’ve seen firsthand how often grief following pet loss gets brushed aside –
treated as less valid, less serious or less worthy of support than human loss.
After a pet dies, people often say the wrong thing – usually trying to help,
but often doing the opposite. Many Americans consider pets family members.
When
loss is minimized or discounted
Psychologists
describe this kind of unacknowledged loss as disenfranchised
grief: a form of mourning that isn’t fully recognized by social norms or
institutions. It happens after miscarriages,
breakups, job loss – and especially after the death of a beloved animal
companion.
The
pain is real for the person grieving, but what’s missing is the social support
to mourn that loss.
Even
well-meaning people struggle to respond in ways that feel supportive. And when
grief gets dismissed, it doesn’t just hurt – it makes us question whether we’re
even allowed to feel it.
Here
are three of the most common responses – and what to do instead:
‘Just
a pet’
This
is one of the most reflexive responses after a loss like this. It sounds
harmless. But under the surface is a cultural
belief that grieving an animal is excessive – even unprofessional.
That
belief shows up in everything from workplace
leave policies to everyday conversations. Even from people trying to
be kind. But pet grief isn’t about the species, it’s about the bond. And for
many, that bond is irreplaceable.
Pets
often become attachment figures; they’re woven into our routines, our emotional
lives and our identities. Recent research shows that the quality
of the human-pet bond matters deeply – not just for well-being, but
for how we grieve when that connection ends.
What’s
lost isn’t “just an animal.” It’s the steady presence who greeted you every
morning. The one who sat beside you through deadlines, small triumphs and quiet
nights. A companion who made the world feel a little less lonely.
But
when the world treats that love like it doesn’t count, the loss can cut even
deeper. It may not come with formal recognition or time off, but it still
matters. And love isn’t less real just because it came with fur. If someone you
care about loses a pet, acknowledge the bond. Even a simple “I’m so sorry” can
offer real comfort.
‘I
know how you feel’
“I
know how you feel” sounds empathetic, but it quietly shifts the focus from the
griever to the speaker. It rushes in with your story before theirs has even had
a chance to land.
That
instinct comes from a good place. We want to relate, to reassure, to let
someone know they’re not alone. But when it comes to grief, that impulse often backfires.
Grief doesn’t need to be matched. It needs to be honored and given time, care
and space to unfold, whether the loss is of a person or a pet.
Instead
of responding with your own story, try simpler, grounding words:
- “That
sounds really hard.”
- “I’m so
sorry.”
- “I’m here if you want to
talk.”
You
don’t need to understand someone’s grief to make space for it. What helps isn’t
comparison – it’s presence. Let them name the loss. Let them remember. Let them
say what hurts. Sometimes, simply staying present – without rushing,
problem-solving or shifting the focus away – is the most meaningful thing you
can do. Pets frequently make a showing in family photos and holiday cards.
‘You
can always get another one’
“You
can always get another one” is the kind of thing people offer reflexively when
they don’t know what else to say – a clumsy attempt at reassurance.
Underneath
is a desire to soothe, to fix, to make the sadness go away. But that instinct
can miss the point: The loss isn’t practical – it’s personal. And grief isn’t a problem to be
solved. This type of comment often lands more like customer service than
comfort. It treats the relationship as replaceable, as if love were something
you can swap out like a broken phone.
But
every pet is one of a kind – not just in how they look or sound, but in how
they move through your life. The way they wait for you at the door and watch
you as you leave. The small rituals that you didn’t know were rituals until
they stopped. You build a life around them without realizing it, until they’re
no longer in it.
You
wouldn’t tell someone to “just have another child” or “just find a new
partner.” And yet, people say the equivalent all
the time after pet loss. Rushing to replace the relationship instead
of honoring what was lost overlooks what made that bond irreplaceable. Love
isn’t interchangeable – and neither are the ones we lose.
So,
offer care that endures. Grief doesn’t follow
a timeline. A check-in weekly or months later, whether it’s a heart emoji, a
shared memory or a gentle reminder that they’re not alone, can remind someone
that their grief is seen, and their love still matters.
When
people say nothing
People
often don’t know what to say after a pet dies, so they say nothing. But silence
doesn’t just bury grief, it isolates it. It tells the griever that their love
was excessive, their sadness inconvenient, their loss unworthy of
acknowledgment.
And
grief that feels invisible can be the hardest kind to carry. So, if someone you
love loses a pet, don’t change the subject. Don’t rush them out of their
sadness. Don’t offer solutions.
Instead,
here are a few other ways to offer support gently and meaningfully:
- Say their
pet’s name.
- Ask what
they miss most.
- Tell them
you’re sorry.
- Let them
cry.
- Let them
not cry.
- Let them
remember.
Because
when someone loses a pet, they’re not “just” mourning an animal. They’re
grieving for a relationship, a rhythm and a presence that made the world feel
kinder. What they need most is someone willing to treat that loss like it
matters.
-The
Conversation, Brian N. Chin, Assistant Professor of Psychology, Trinity College
Zoe and Apollo were my two cats years ago:
https://teacherpoetmusicianglenbrown.blogspot.com/2023/10/cats.html