Grief over the death of a pet is real grief

MY best mate and family member of 18 years died this week. And it’s made me realise bereavement leave should be for pet deaths too, writes Katrina Stokes.

WHEN I called my dad on Tuesday morning, the quiver in his voice instantly told me something wasn’t quite right.

Our 18-year-old beloved dog Ruff the Maltese-Shih tzu wasn’t doing that great.

After almost two decades of being the best dog in the world, Ruff had succumbed to old age. He was very skinny, had cataracts in both eyes, a dodgy heart, cancer and doggie dementia.

We all knew he wasn’t going to live forever — we just hoped he would.

I was only aged 13 or 14 when “Ruffy puppy” was purchased and brought home to our loving arms after my younger sister saw him sitting in a pet store in Victor Harbor during the summer school holidays. The bond between Ruff and her was instant.

Ruff was put “on hold” for one night while my mum and dad thought about whether they actually wanted a pooch in the house. The next day, her pleas won out and the rest is history.

His name was never debated for long — it just suited him. He was called Ruff after the dog in the movie Dennis the Menace because my dad liked it. And that was that.

To some people, a dog is just a dog. An animal that gets the occasional pat and gets fed every night. To us, Ruff was so much more.

Katrina Stokes with Ruff. (Pic: Supplied)

Ruff’s been there with us through thick and thin. He’s given us unconditional love and like most dogs, he had a sixth sense and was always there to comfort us when the chips were down.

His newest nickname was “the meerkat” because he had an uncanny resemblance to that funny meerkat Aleksandr on the Compare the Market ads.

In his more youthful years, family and friends knew Ruff as “Houdini” because he miraculously managed to escape the house numerous times, including the time he was found by nuns at the end of the street. They loved him so much, a few weeks later, the nuns had purchased a little white Ruff of their own.

Then, one New Year’s Eve, mum and dad thought Ruff was a goner. After managing to escape the family beach house at Middleton, Ruff had scaled sand dunes, a bike track and/or a busy main road to be found by a policeman in Port Elliot in the wee of the morning.

My mum and dad returned to the house after celebrations that night to find no dog. After frantic searching, the next morning my dad had began putting “missing white fluffy dog” signs up in the Middleton store. At that moment, the policeman called. He had Ruff and they liked our pooch so much, he had spent the night sleeping on their bed.

Ruff hoovered just about anything and was quite partial to scoffing pizza crusts and hot chips (once they had cooled). He loved nothing more than “digging his way to China” at the beach and going for “walkies” and swims in the ocean. He was a small dog but he was fearless.

It’s pretty amazing to think how much humans can love an animal. But, how can we not when they offer us back bucket loads in return?

There’s proven research that shows dogs have been used to help — and treat — people with dementia or mental illness because of their calming, gentle effect. Then there are those miracle stories where the family dog has detected and literally sniffed out cancer in their owner and it has eventuated in an actual diagnosis. They are special beings.

As I’m writing this, I’m crying. It’s hard not to cry when you’ve lost one of your best friends.

Ruff’s interests included attempting to dig to China at the beach, pizza crusts and escapology. (Pic: supplied)

My mum feels like she’s lost the son she never had and my dad, who rarely shows his emotions, is visibly upset.

The death of a pet brings up the controversial topic of whether or not work places should allow bereavement leave when an animal dies.

Just like people can and should take leave for their mental health, perhaps it really is appropriate to allow people to take a day off to grieve a loved one, even if he/she happened to have four legs instead of two.

They say there are five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. At the moment my family is doing and feeling all of those things. Everyone grieves differently but at the end of the day, grief is grief.

For a dog who was in our lives for more than 18 years, who has sat next to me when I’ve been dumped and sick and unfailingly loyal when I’ve just needed a companion — it’s hard not to feel overwhelmingly sad when I realise we’re never going to see him again.

To the best dog in the whole wide world, we will miss you dearly Ruffy puppy.

Mum and dad have said already, for them, there will never be another dog. There simply couldn’t be after you.

You were a member of the Stokes family. Your memory will live on and hold a special place in our hearts forever.

Originally published as Grief over the death of a pet is real grief