“Grief is not measured by species. Love is love. Loss is loss.” -Dr. Joanne Cacciatore

 

My Interpretation: If someone thinks losing a dog hurts less than losing a person, they have clearly never had a dog like Koby. You do not get to rank grief. Especially not mine. Grief of any kind should never be ranked or measured. Grief is love loss; the pet loss kind – people do not take seriously because it did not wear shoes or speak English. Should never matter to begin with. Grief is not measurable scientifically; only emotionally.

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Series 4 – Post 1: The Grief Spiral

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People will look at you differently when you say you are grieving your dog.

They will say,

“At least it was not a person.”

Or

“You can always get another one.”

Or my personal favorite:

“Well, you knew this day was coming.”

As if anticipation makes impact easier to absorb.

As if I did not wake up the next day expecting to hear his paws & then falling apart when I did not.

As if logic makes loss less cruel.

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Let me be clear:

Koby was not practice.

He was not a placeholder.

He was not training wheels for grief.

He was the center of my coping mechanism.

The glue between breakdowns.

The constant in years where nothing else was.

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I have lost people.

I have stood in cemeteries

& kept my hands in my pockets so no one could see them shake.

I have made hospital calls

& given funeral speeches.

& this?

This still hit like a fucking freight train.

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Here is what no one tells you about pet loss:

• You still flinch when you open the door expecting them to be there.
• You still reach out mid-sob for the thing that used to ground you – only to feel air.
• You still brace for the howl during a Taylor Swift song & ache when it does not come.
• You still pause before vacuuming because you are not ready to suck up the last strands of fur off the rug.
• You still keep your hand low when you eat dinner – just in case someone wants a bite.

& maybe worst of all?

People expect you to be over it way too soon.

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No one brings you casseroles when your dog dies.

No one says:

“Take time off work”

or

“How is your mental health holding up?”

You are expected to:

→ Clean up the toys.

→Vacuum the fur.

→Toss the leash.

→Smile through it.

→Move on.

But I am not okay.

I am gutted.

Still.

I did not just lose a dog.

I lost the being who knew how to calm me without a word.

Who stood beside me through trauma, silence, hell.

Who sensed the spiral before I did

& would lean his full body against mine like,

“Not today. You are staying.”

You do not just bounce back from that.

You rebuild around it.

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So, no.

This is not practice.

This is not a warm-up.

This is grief.

Real. Visceral.

Fucking earned.

Because love like that

does not disappear just

because the world does not know

what to do with it.

Xoxo ♡