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It started when two canine scientists decide to become pen pals in an era of digital media...
Elke’s passing has given us all pause. Not only is there the missing of who she is -- her apple core eating and play-spinning ways -- but it also
makes me examine the purpose of our pen pal blog. Being “real” about dogs and
being “science” about dogs are not separate from one another; they are part of the same
coin. Maybe that’s obvious, but I’m very happy (if that’s the right word) that
you shared Elke’s life and passing here on Do You Believe in Dog?. From the feedback on Facebook, others agree.
I used to have conversations with my childhood dog, Brandy. We
would lie next to one another as if we were girlfriends at a slumber party, and I
would explain to her that if she ever died, I would kill her. I wanted her to
understand that death wasn’t a viable option for her. She would have to find
something else to do when she got old.
Playing, "Find the real dog" with Brandy
Death is universal. It is not unique or unordinary. We bring companion animals into our lives knowing that there is a finite time we will be together. But what I do think is notable about Elke (and Brandy’s) deaths, is
that they were "good" deaths. They didn’t experience prolonged discomfort or
drawn out pain and suffering. How animals die is part of end-of-life care, regardless of whether we are talking about companion animals, lab animals or farm animals. This is why, when I heard about the work of Dr. Stephanie LaFarge, I paused and took interest.
Advice on dealing with children, the elderly or disabled
individuals who are facing a death of a companion animal.
Helping the surviving animals in the household to cope.
Assistance in establishing a relationship with a new pet.
The first area, “Assistance with the decision to euthanize” is incredibly important. They explain: “Coping with the impending loss of a pet is one of the most difficult
experiences a pet parent will face. Whether your furry friend is approaching
his golden years or has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, it’s important
to calmly guide the end-of-life experience and minimize any discomfort or distress.”
Nowadays, it can be possible to extend a loved
pet's life, which can be awesome! But sometimes the question becomes, "Are there any costs? Are we minimizing discomfort and distress?"
There is nothing easy about end-of-life decisions, but a good death is as important as a good life.
We have been overwhelmed by the response of the Do You Believe in Dog? community to the death of Mia's dog, Elke. It's obvious this has struck a chord because so many people can relate to this emotional time of losing a much loved canine companion.
Thank you all for your messages of sympathy and support.
We decided to compile some resources to help you, or a friend, prepare for and cope with this difficult (and inevitable) part of sharing our lives with dogs.
Understanding Grief: The Australian centre for grief and bereavement offer excellent information on their website. We have included some key excerpts and links. About Grief Suggestions to help you get through this difficult time:
Create a memorial - do or make something to honour your loved one.
Develop your own rituals - light a candle, listen to special music, make a special place to think.
Allowing yourself to express your thoughts and feelings privately can help. Write a letter or a poem (or a blog post!), draw, collect photos, cry.
Exercise - do something to use pent-up energy, walk, swim, garden, chop wood.
Draw on religious and spiritual beliefs, if this is helpful.
Read about other people's experience - find books and articles.
Do things that are relaxing and soothing.
Some holistic or self care ideas that may assist include meditation, distractions, relaxation, massage, aromatherapy and warmth.
To help with sleeplessness: exercise, limit alcohol, eat well before sleeping, and try to have a routine.
Sharing with other people can reduce the sense of isolation and aloneness that comes with grief.
Allow people to help you, don't be embarrassed to accept their help. You will be able to help someone else at another time. It is your turn now.
Talk to family and friends; sharing memories and stories, thoughts and feelings can be comforting and strengthen our connection with our loved one.
Consider joining a support group to share with others who have had similar experiences.
Talk with a counsellor to focus on your unique situation, to find support and comfort, and to find other ways to manage, especially when either your life or your grief seems to be complicated and particularly difficult.
Advice from the Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement:
Our
journeys with dogs are incredibly personal. End-of-life feelings and
decisions can have similar elements. We hope these resources
prove useful.
Mia and Julie Further reading:
Fuhr N. & Ruthven I. (2012) Grieving online: the use of search engines in times of grief and bereavement, Proceedings of the 4th Information Interaction in Context Symposium, 120. DOI: 10.1145/2362724.2362747
Planchon L.A. & Templer D.I. (1996). The Correlates of Grief after Death of Pet, Anthrozoos: A Multidisciplinary Journal of The Interactions of People & Animals, 9 (2) 107-113. DOI: 10.2752/089279396787001491
Packman W., Field N.P., Carmack B.J. & Ronen R. (2011). Continuing Bonds and Psychosocial Adjustment in Pet Loss, Journal of Loss and Trauma, 16 (4) 341-357. DOI: 10.1080/15325024.2011.572046
"On Sunday I sat outside in the sun, stroking Elke's so-soft ears, while my husband patted her long, sleek back, and we farewelled our first girl. We learned on Friday that her liver and spleen were full of cancer. We are so grateful to have shared 12.5yrs with her and will miss her dearly." is what my Facebook status update said. But let's start at the beginning...
Little Elke-Moo and her
cow hips, at RSPCA
I met Elke (pronounced Ell-kee) when I was in my third week of employment in the RSPCA shelter. What a sucker I was! She was seized as part of a cruelty case from a property where an elderly man with dementia had over forty dogs. Because of the dementia, the dogs weren’t receiving proper care and he sometimes fed them chicken pellets. Of her litter, Elke was the only survivor. She looked like a 5 week old puppy but she was actually 12 weeks old.
She was always small. Our ‘bonsai pointer’, we called her. We joked that she was little, but could lay a good egg. My boyfriend at the time and I had been speaking about getting a dog, and pointers had come up as a breed we were interested in – he wanted a dog to run with him. After three weeks of rehabilitation at RSPCA, she came home with me. I was 23 years old. Since then, she has been a fixture in the landscape of our lives - through house moves, our engagement and marriage, the death of my father, the arrival of our daughter, the comings and goings of oh-so-many other dogs (occupational hazard!).
Elke and my daughter - a fantastic introduction to dogs
Elke was energetic, excitable and hilarious. She wasn't perfect, but neither were we. We were a perfect match. She realised, as a young dog, that she could redirect attention to herself if visitors were over, by trawling our dirty clothes basket for recent underwear and then parading it through the lounge room for everyone to see.
Post-beach snooze with our other dog, Caleb
She didn’t like thunderstorms or fireworks. She loved running off lead at the park, the beach or through the bush and she adored retrieving. She would regularly throw herself into water without stopping to check for a way out. One time I had to walk along a river back for about 500m while she swam and we looked for a place where she could scramble up the riverbank to get out again! We took Elke to obedience training and she taught us so much. Elke was also more than our pet. She helped as a friendly adult dog at puppy preschool classes, she posed as a jaunty model as Australia legislated for the end of tail docking, she tried to distract trainee guide dogs and she visited nursing homes as a certified visiting therapy dog. They were all things we did together, my spotty dog and I.
Elke loved playing swim-retrieve in the water
She and our other dog Caleb were very close. They had a silly play ritual they indulged in every day. Twice a day. A close-quarters mouthing and growling game that ended in howling calamity. It was sometimes annoying (working from home, it wasn’t always compatible with work-related phone calls!), but always made me smile. But now our house is very quiet.
We all loved time at the beach
We didn’t know Elke was sick until a week before she was euthanased. We took her to the vet, her temperature was up, a blood sample was taken, antibiotics were commenced. We didn’t know just how sick she was until two days before. What we did know, was that she was getting older, slowing down, not hearing the thunderstorms any more – and we knew she wouldn’t live forever. But 'that day' always seems - in the future.
Instant couch-rights
When the vet rang me on Friday (the 13th) to advise that the ultrasound showed Elke’s liver and spleen were full of cancer, I was interstate at a conference aiming to eliminate the euthanasia of healthy and treatable pets in Australia. I was told that there were no options. Elke was comfortable, but at risk of bleeding internally and needed to be kept quiet with minimal activity. Euthanasia was not required immediately, but certainly the recommended course of action to avoid a slow and painful death by haemorrhage. I made the appointment for the day after I was due home and cried in my hotel room until there were no tissues left.
Sunday morning was a beautiful morning in Melbourne. The sun was out. I sat with Elke and my just-turned-3-year-old daughter in our garden. We talked about Elke being sick and that she was going to die. She asked hard questions. I did my best to answer them. We weren’t able to play retrieve, but passed Elke little sticks and she crunched them in her teeth. I took some last photos of the two of them – my girls – who have enjoyed a calm and positive relationship. Then Pete and I took Elke to the vet. She was given a mild sedative and we walked outside into the vet clinic’s garden (she never really liked veterinary consult’ rooms). We placed her bed on the grass in the sun, while she walked and sniffed. As the sedation took effect, I helped her settle onto her bed and she relaxed, dozing in the sun. Pete gently stroked her back. I had her relaxed head cushioned in my lap, savouring the sensation of her silky soft ears against my fingertips, one last time. She didn’t even notice the needle that entered the vein in her leg with the overdose of anaesthetic. It really was the perfect euthanasia.
Elke was doing selfies pre-Facebook - circa 2003
Now Elke is gone, and we’re adjusting to this changed landscape of our lives.
Despite all the dogs that have lived in our home, for days or for years, Elke is the first dog that we have owned from puppyhood through to old age. In some ways, this is helping me cope with her death. With other dogs I think I’ve felt an element of anger that we had met too late for them to live their best life, or been robbed of time together through unexpected illness taking them too soon. But today, I’m trying to take comfort in the fact that Elke lived a fabulous and full life with us; her passing was as peaceful and stress free as any of us could hope for. I’m so grateful that our daughter had Elke to share her infancy with.
It still hurts. In ways that bubble up unexpectedly. And I know that’s OK. Grief is messy. It’s individual and it takes as long as it takes. Time plays a critical role and will not be rushed.
Spooning in 2003.
Still besties in 2013.
Research over the past 25 years has shown us that grieving for a pet follows the same reactions and involves the same emotional responses as dealing with a human loss. People who have lost a pet commonly experience intense feelings such as sadness, anger, anxiety, disbelief, depression, panic, relief or even numbness. The act of consenting to euthanasia has been found to be particularly disturbing for some owners, who feel they have betrayed a trust by choosing death over life. Of course, grief responses to death of companion animals is linked to the strength of attachment we have with them, but we should not trivialise, nor brush aside our response to the death of our pets.
Animals are important to us and the grief we experience when they die is real.
We should be gentle to ourselves.
Acknowledging this and permitting ourselves to react (however we need to) is important. Letting our support networks (friends, family, colleagues) know how we feel and letting them help us in return is also important. If time isn’t helping, or you lack a support network, seek further help, from your doctor or a professional counsellor. The Australian Centre for Grief and Bereavement has helpful information about grief here. The number of friends who have sent me kind messages, called to see how we're doing this week or even driven over just to give me a hug has shown me that a) Elke was a dog whose reach was long, and that b) I have amazing friends and family!
And so, my friend, I’m off to give Caleb a big hug. Because amongst all the other sad (for Elke, for my daughter, for me) I’m sad that he may never get to do this again:
Mia
Do You Believe in Dog? will place further helpful resources about dealing with the grief associated with pet loss online soon.
My submitted proof that the sun did shine out of...
Further reading: Weisman A.D. (1990). Bereavement and Companion Animals, OMEGA--Journal of Death and Dying, 22 (4) 241-248. DOI: 10.2190/C54Y-UGMH-QGR4-CWTL Archer J. & Winchester G. (1994). Bereavement following death of a pet, British Journal of Psychology, 85 (2) 259-271. DOI: 10.1111/j.2044-8295.1994.tb02522.x Podrazik D., Shackford S., Becker L. & Heckert T. (2000). The Death of a Pet: Implications for Loss and Bereavement Across the Lifespan, Journal of Personal and Interpersonal Loss, 5 (4) 361-395. DOI: 10.1080/10811440008407852 Smith A. (2012). Pet Loss and Human Emotion: What's New?, Death Studies, 36 (3) 292-297. DOI: 10.1080/07481187.2011.590443 Field N., Orsini L., Gavish R. & Packman W. (2009). Role of Attachment in Response to Pet Loss, Death Studies, 33 (4) 334-355. DOI: 10.1080/07481180802705783 Crossley M. (2013). Pet Loss and Human Bereavement: A Phenomenological Study of Attachment and the Grieving Process., PhD Thesis, NC State University: http://www.lib.ncsu.edu/resolver/1840.16/8451
I’m not exactly sure what that means, as we don’t celebrate it in Australia, but I hope you had a great time with your family and friends all the same!
Thanks for all those fantastic resources you included in your last blog post. It was alsogreat to see some extras posted by readers in the comments section.
Having established last time that dogs can benefit kids’ confidence, self-belief, trust, respect and heaps of other positive attitudes and behaviours, I was left wondering how losing a pet dog impacts children. Loss of a companion animal can be a devastating event for people of any age.
Humans don’t all experience grief equally.
Our understanding of deathis linked to our developmental state, but young children can still feel pain at the loss of a family dog. For many children, the death of a pet dog will be their first experience with this kind of loss and grief. Pet dogs can be almost-constant companions for children, and have been assigned a role in reflected appraisalsimilar to that of a best friend.
Psychologists encourage parents/guardians to explain death to kids sensitively and with honesty. Adults should answer questions simply, using clear and accurate information and avoid the desire to ‘protect’ children from death by hiding the truth of a pet’s illness or euthanasia. This is because children with active imaginations may create scenarios about the death that are far worse than reality.
Adults should allow children to express their grief (through verbal, artistic or written expression; reading stories about the death of pets, etc.), acknowledging the importance of the relationship lost (rather than trivializing the death or running to buy a new puppy) and helping children to understand that grief is a normal and natural emotion that helps us cope with death.
Some psychologists believe that such trauma (with a successful associated recovery) can strengthen our capacity to deal with future stress and adversity. This is referred to as psychological resilience and is considered a desirable and healthy process as it enables a person, or in this case a child, to develop coping strategies and support networks (friends, adults, family, etc.) that will serve them in difficult times later in life.
It's true (when you're using zo/zoo- as a prefix to indicate animals are involved). And it's about noses. Not noses-noses, that would be silly. I'm talking about Zoonoses. As in diseases that can transfer from animals to people. As in from a dog to a child. They're not pretty.
Research has shown that people can be generally uninformed about some of the most common zoonotic diseases (e.g. common roundworm eggs readily transfer between dogs and people; the worm larvae can decide to live in the back of children's eyes which can lead to blindness - people should know that!)
I suggest that if any of your dog-owning friends with children aren't aware of the risks of zoonotic diseases, they run an online search for 'dogs zoonosis [insert country of residence]' so they can read up on what parasite control and other measures can be used in their neck of the globe to reduce the risk of zoonoses.
Maintaining good child and dog health and hygiene should be a no-brainer. Did you know dogs can catch things from kids too? That's called reverse zoonosis. And to think sharing is something I normally praise my toddler for!
I hope you’ll grit your teeth and stick with me for my third post about the science surrounding children and dogs. You’ve seen The Good and now The Bad – next time, I'm going to bring out The Ugly. I'll also touch on what science has to say about our childhood experience with dogs influencing us as adults. What do you reckon your childhood experiences with Arfcontributed to your adult attitudes?
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