How to Comfort Someone Grieving the Loss of a Pet? Top 5 Ways to Console and Encourage, from Someone Who Lost Their Beloved Cat

There are aspects of pet loss that only those experiencing it can truly understand. Especially for those who don't live with animals, it can be difficult to know what to say when a close friend or loved one is suffering from pet loss.

I hope to alleviate such frustrations and convey the depth of suffering experienced by those going through pet loss. With that in mind, this time I'll share the top 5 phrases that brought me comfort when I lost my beloved cat, Gigi.

Of course, the words that bring solace differ from person to person, but I hope my experiences and feelings can offer some guidance.

[No. 5] "I'm sure Gigi was happy to have lived with you."

If Gigi had a different owner, could she have lived longer? After Gigi passed away, I thought this and blamed myself.

I had consciously provided all possible treatments and cared for her health, but if asked, "Was it truly perfect?" I couldn't confidently say "yes."

Every time I expressed such vulnerability, I felt a little lighter when followers on X told me, "I'm sure Gigi was happy to have met you."

Honestly, I'm still not confident if Gigi truly felt "happy to have met me." But I was glad that our relationship was seen as such by others, and it gave me a chance to forgive myself a little.

[No. 4] "All the photos show such a happy face."

Were the days Gigi spent with me truly happy? This phrase resonated with me when I was contemplating this after pet loss.

When Gigi was alive, she didn't get along very well with our other cat, Kotaro, and sometimes hissed at him. While they didn't constantly hiss at each other, the feeling of regret for letting her live in such an environment grew very strong after pet loss.

But after someone said this to me, and I objectively looked through the photos and videos I had taken when she was alive, I saw many moments of Gigi squinting her eyes in contentment or purring while being held.

And I was able to think, "Maybe I did make her a little happy."

[No. 3] "She lived this long because you were her owner."

Gigi died from the metastasis of an aggressive tumor that forms in blood vessels, called hemangiosarcoma. Hemangiosarcoma is a difficult disease to detect early, even with regular check-ups. In many cases, it's only discovered when the tumor ruptures.

But even after Gigi's death, the feeling of blaming myself, thinking "If only I had discovered the illness earlier...", wouldn't go away. I felt like she died at 11 because I was her owner.

It was this phrase that my husband said to me when I was feeling so down. He considered Gigi's 11 years of life with a completely different perspective than mine, saying, "She lived for 11 years because you were her owner," and I cried, realizing there was another way to see it.

My husband also said, "You noticed things I wouldn't have, and you did everything you could. Gigi lived a full life."

At the time, I spent every night crying while holding her urn. These words truly saved me.

[No. 2] "It's not strange to feel that way."

Some time after Gigi passed away, a feeling started to grow within me that made me think, "Hmm...". It was the desire to eat Gigi's bones.

Before, when I saw a scene in a certain cat manga where an owner ate the bones of their deceased beloved cat, I honestly didn't quite understand it, wondering "What kind of psychology leads to such a feeling?"

But when my own beloved cat actually passed away, I understood the author's feelings very well.

Questions like whether it's hygienic to eat bones, or that it's meaningless because they'll just be excreted anyway, all seemed irrelevant. "If I ingest my beloved cat by eating their bones, they will become a part of me, and we can live together forever." That's what I thought.

Perhaps "I want to eat my beloved cat's bones" is the highest expression of "I want to be with them forever."

However, it's a topic far too sensitive to mention publicly. So, in a conversation with followers on X, I casually brought it up.

To my surprise, most people sympathized, saying "I felt that way too," or validated my feelings with "It's not strange to think that."

At that moment, I realized how comforting it was for a grieving owner to have their boundless love for their deceased cat accepted as "not strange."

[No. 1] "For now, let's just cry, cry, cry."

Among all the words I received, this one brought me the most solace. The experience of losing a beloved pet is indescribably painful. Because it's so agonizing, you might want to "recover quickly" and try to hold back your tears and emotions.

However, that restraint will inevitably break down at some point, and often, allowing yourself to truly cry and grieve can actually bring a sense of relief.

In fact, after followers on X and my husband told me, "Let's just cry, cry, cry," I decided, "Okay! I'll cry forever! Even if others get fed up and say, 'Are you still crying?', I'll grieve as much as I need to." From then on, my heart gradually lightened.

It's okay to cry a lot. It's okay to sob as if you're going to use up a lifetime's worth of tears. Because the pain of losing an irreplaceable life isn't something that heals so easily.

I want this message, which saved me, to reach those who are trying to hold back their tears.

"Positive advice" can sometimes wound the bereaved.

In my case, I often unconsciously felt pressured to "recover quickly," so hearing phrases like "Gigi will be sad if you keep crying" or "You won't be able to rest in peace if you don't smile" was honestly painful.

Even though I knew my beloved cat would be more at ease if I smiled, the reality was that I couldn't, which made me blame myself even more.

Also, while I wasn't told this, advice like "Why don't you get a new one?" can be hurtful to some people, so I think it's important to be careful when saying it. This is because, for an owner, their deceased pet is an "irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind presence."

When you see someone suffering from pet loss, you naturally want to cheer them up, and you might be tempted to offer what you think is good advice. However, I personally felt that what truly brings solace after pet loss is empathy, rather than advice.

When someone who had the same experience empathized with me, I felt relieved, thinking, "I'm not the only one who feels this way." And even from people who hadn't experienced pet loss, having someone say, "That must be so painful. It's natural to feel that way," helped me survive this far. I'm not exaggerating, it's truly how I feel.

Instead of giving my own opinions, I just listened intently. I believe there are many pet owners like me who find solace in such an empathetic approach.

Is it arrogant to want people who don't live with animals to understand the pain of pet loss? Honestly, I've thought that sometimes, but pet loss is, in a way, "bereavement."

Even if it's not a human, I believe that for society as a whole to consider how to overcome the grief and pain of losing a cherished being also contributes to protecting our own lives.

That's why I want society to become a place where the pain of pet loss isn't simply dismissed as just five letters. My beloved cat Gigi, who gave me the opportunity to think this way, is still a special and dearly loved cat to me.

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