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moodRubicund t1_j8c7nwc wrote

Reply to comment by wallowsfan289 in Cultivating a sense of perspective about pet loss can lead to post-traumatic growth after their death by chrisdh79

When my grandfather died I was sad for a long time but he had lived a full and long life and had a massive community remember him at his funeral.

When my dog died I was devastated for months. He was just eight years old and had been sick for a year and a half and I had tried so hard to take care of him and in the end he died because the vet that my family took him to overdosed him on a medicine that, even months after he took it, gradually ruined his liver.

So I was not just sad about my dog but I was wracked with a horrible sense of guilt for trusting the wrong vets and not being smart enough to know better. I kept replaying scenarios where I managed to cure him early or sidestep a mistake over and over and over, even though it was a shared responsibility among my family (I didn't even see the particular vet that prescribed that medicine that killed him, I always took him to other ones) I kept seeing it as a solo mission that I failed.

So I think the thing about death is that the circumstances really make a big difference how you react to them. Not all passing will make you feel such an awful sense of guilt.

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CsimpanZ t1_j8cpifw wrote

I had a very similar case with our rabbit Simba. He was so young and the circumstances around his death were probably avoidable. It gave me a much more intense and painful sense of loss than when I lost elderly human relatives.

I hope you’re able to find peace with this, I find it helps to remember them and honour them with how you live your life and care for other animals.

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foxwaffles t1_j8dpspi wrote

I foster neonatal orphan kittens and I just recently had to let go of my 18 yr old senior kitty. Between the two they are both extremely difficult but nothing compares to the first time I ever lost a kitten. It was an extreme tragedy, despite my best efforts her chances of survival were basically nothing. She danced on the knifes edge between life and death, with barely a drop of blood in her body after being absolutely infested with fleas, and it was a miracle she lasted for a week after that. But still, the hope and optimism the shelter and I both felt about her fight for her life made it to this date the worst loss I have ever experienced. Particularly because she passed while I was taking a one hour nap after a brutal week with barely any sleep. It took me a very long time to accept that it wasn't my fault.

I still can't name any kittens with names that start with P. Someday I'd like to but not yet.

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