Understanding Pet Grief Disorder: A New Look at Loss

Grief over the death of a pet could be as chronic as that for a human family member, according to research. The study, published in the academic journal PLOS One, suggests grieving pet owners can suffer from prolonged grief disorder (PGD). PGD is a mental health condition that can last months or even years, and often involves intense longing and despair, and problems socialising and going about daily tasks. Currently, only those grieving the loss of a person can be diagnosed. Three owners spoke about their experiences of grief for a beloved pet. ‘We haven’t finished grieving really’ Chris Mason and his wife, Mireill, were never pet people. Originally from Worcester and now living in Carpentras, France, the couple had led a nomadic lifestyle, moving house often. But in 2017, along came Julot, a big old ginger cat from next door. The couple befriended the cat after his owner was taken into a nursing home. “He became our little bundle of fun. Well, not ‘fun’ … Like older people, he was set in his ways – fussy and miserable. But he slowly became affectionate, in his way.” Julot was born in 2004. “By 2022, he was pretty much deaf and blind, though he could still navigate through his nose. He liked to drink out of a pool outside, and would use his paw to find the water. I remember when we used to leave the house for an evening or a few days away, he used to sit in the middle of the driveway with a look on his face saying: ‘Where are you going?’ And I would tell him: ‘Julot, you’re in charge.’” After a trip to the UK in April 2024, they returned to find Julot lifeless on their terrace. “It was something sad beyond words, that he died alone. The neighbour explained he had been alive in the morning, although quite weak. We wept for I don’t know how long afterwards. More even than for family deaths.” The couple buried Julot with his favourite blanket in a wooden fruit box at the bottom of their garden. “We laid out stones in the form of a ‘J’. When our children and grandchildren visit from the UK, they all want to pay tribute to him and pause for a few minutes in front of his grave. “We haven’t finished grieving really, although it’s now more reminiscences than tears. We remember his behaviours. He used to reach up and open the back door using the handle. I always used to say to him: ‘It’s cold, can you shut the door behind you, please?’ He never did that, of course. “We still feel sad. We bought an antique real-size cat sculpture for the garden and placed it in Julot’s favourite sitting place. When we leave the house, we still tell him he’s in charge.” ‘I ache whenever I walk our sidewalks, remembering our afternoon ritual’ Paul Kane and his wife were “in love from the first moment” they saw Walter, a French bulldog. They adopted him in the San Francisco Bay area in 2017, and would go on to have many adventures with him. “We took him on trips, hikes, car rides,” says Paul, 40, who lives in Virginia and is a web software developer. “When you share those experiences and build a bond with someone – even an animal – those aren’t just retained in your memory. They’re embedded in your soul. They’re irreplaceable.” When the couple settled in Virginia with their two young children, Walter became “a part of their early moments”. “He’s in every picture of them playing on the carpet, next to them with pleading eyes at mealtime, waiting at the stairs for them to come down in the morning (or us to come back to play with him),” says Paul. “Walter was one of a kind. He filled our daily life with laughter, love and joy. He was at once a ball of energy and also the laziest animal you’ll meet. Stubborn but loyal, loving yet watchful.” Walter died suddenly aged eight late last summer. A fast-moving cancerous growth had developed around his heart, and abruptly ruptured. “When he suddenly passed, we were completely taken by surprise and devastated,” says Paul. “We had barely realised something was truly wrong with him before he left us. I was driving him to the vet, and he died on the way in the car. I am just relieved my family weren’t with me to see that. That would have been a lot, especially for our young kids. “It was – and still is – overwhelming to relive. We only wish, despite now knowing his time was limited, that we had given him more comfort in his final days, and embraced what were his final moments in totality.” Paul says they continue to mourn the loss of Walter. “To this day we look to his corner of the living room where his bed was, instinctively,’ he says. “I ache whenever I walk our sidewalks, remembering our afternoon ritual. “We think at some point we’ll be ready for another pet, but it will never replace him. There is a space in our hearts to love again, but the one for Walter will always remain.” ‘I wish Womble could have lived for ever’ Geraldine Blake was living in Tehran in the late 1970s with her husband when a neighbour came to their door with two tiny kittens. “A litter had been dumped down a drain, and only two had been saved,” says Geraldine, 75, who lives in Worthing, West Sussex. “We took them in; unfortunately, one of them was knocked down and killed, but the other one, whom we named Womble, stayed. “Our apartment was on the outskirts of the city, and we would take long walks through pomegranate orchards, while she raced around exploring and unsuccessfully chasing the wildlife, but a couple of handclaps, a shout of her name, and she would come racing back, ready to go home. I think she thought she was a dog. “After a few years, and the revolution, we were evacuated back to the UK, but couldn’t bring her with us. Fortunately, good friends managed to get her on a plane to Heathrow, where she spent six months in quarantine. We visited her every Sunday until she was finally allowed to join us in Chiswick. “She was an amazing cat. She could recognise our car by the engine noise and be waiting on the doorstep when we got home from work. She loved going for long walks along the Thames with us, even following us into pubs, and sitting under the table until we were ready to go home. “Sadly in 1984, she died, we were devastated. My husband and I weren’t fortunate enough to have children, and I don’t believe that animals are a substitute in any way, but at the same time, I was very, very attached to Womble. “It sounds silly, but we were so close to her. We’d had cats before, and they were OK. There were nice animals, but Womble was so special and so different. It’s been more than 40 years since she died, and whenever I look at her photo on the mantlepiece, I smile and wish she could have lived for ever. I’d give anything just to see her again, walking along the garden wall.”