I moved to Arizona back in 2011 when I was 18 years old. I didn’t know anyone there and being without family or friends quickly became difficult and lonely. I knew I needed a little buddy, someone to keep me company as I navigate this new chapter in my life. This is when my first cat Stormy came into the picture. Stormy came into my life just two months after moving to Arizona. She was perfect from her whiskers to her toe beans. Fast forward 14 years later to November 2025, I said goodbye. Stormy was with me through everything, 7 moves, many breakups, starting college, starting grad school, finishing grad school, my first job, and many many tears. She was such an angel, she’s even the reason I got my second cat (who’s crazy as hell). I knew losing her would be hard, but I never imagined how the grief would shake me to my core. There are days where I think I’m fine, then there are days I lay in bed and cry uncontrollably, and it feels like no time has passed at all

Grief before the loss aka anticipatory grief

Anticipatory grief happens when you’re feeling the loss of your pet before it happens. This often happens when caring for a sick pet, as you’re mentally trying to cope with the future loss, feeling an intense form of depression. I felt this hard. When I took Stormy to the vet I was initially unsure of what the future looked like. Do I do exploratory surgery? Do I do everything possible to try to save her, knowing she could die on the surgical table or never wake up? Or, do I make her comfortable as long as possible and try to enjoy my last moments? My gut reaction was to do everything possible to make sure she survives. But, after much research and debate, and knowing the surgery would not likely be successful, I realized the best option for her would be to make her as comfortable as possible and try to cherish my last moments with her.

In this moment you feel guilt, anxiety, sadness, and for me personally I kept asking myself “what if”? What if I took her to the vet sooner? What if I did do surgery? What if I had paid better attention? What if I took her to a different vet? The fact of the matter is it doesn’t matter. Asking “what if” is your brain trying to give your body a sense of control in a situation in which you have no control. Maybe if you replay the scenario in your head enough times, you’ll find a version in which it doesn’t hurt so much. But the problem is, playing this scenario over again and again in your head will stop you from moving forward. Instead you need to ask yourself “what now”. What now? Well, now you grieve. I was thankful (considering) this all happened over Thanksgiving so I had time off of work. I took the time I had left with stormy to spend every second of every day with her. We took naps, spend some time in the sun, I took videos of her purring, and a ton of photos.

When do I say goodbye? Is it the right time?

When your pet doesn’t die suddenly there is a choice you have to make, at what point do you say goodbye? This is the hardest decision to make, not only because you’re choosing to let go permanently, but because it’s not always clear when the right time is. I have friends and family members who have had to euthanize their pets and they all said the same thing – I wish I did it sooner. At first this can sound cruel and impossible, but as I watched Stormy decline I began to understand. Stormy declined a lot faster than I thought. 1 month prior to her passing, she was perfect (from what I could tell) running around and playing. From the day I took her to the vet on Tuesday, to Sunday when I put her down, she had lost over 10% of her body weight and I could tell she was in pain, despite all the medications we were giving her. It gets to the point where you realize keeping them here is selfish. It was at this point I had to have a mindset shift. Instead of feeling like I was killing her by putting her down, I started to think of euthanasia as a blessing. Whenever you ask someone “how would you like to die” almost everyone responds “in my sleep”. You’re pet has loved you unconditionally their whole life, the least you can do is give them the gift of a peaceful, short death where they can pass in their sleep. It got to the point I didn’t want to watch her suffer any more just so I could have one more cuddle. It wasn’t fair to her after all shes given me, it was time for me to stop taking. Although I wanted to have someone come to the house to euthanize her, over a holiday weekend it was impossible. I had my boyfriend drive me to the vet Sunday night to peacefully put her down. In the end, I knew I made the right choice. Although I was a mess and could barely see through my tears, I felt relief. Relief she wasn’t in pain anymore. Relief I wouldn’t have to force another pill down her throat. Relief knowing I wouldn’t wake up to her dead after days of suffering.

The aftermath: How to cope after the loss

Your grief is real, but will often be misunderstood. People who don’t have pets will not fully grasp the pain you’re going through (if you’re a cat owner, you’ll feel this even harder). This might make you feel isolated, alone, and judged, but it’s important to remind yourself that what you’re feeling is normal, and you’re not alone.

You’ll find yourself crying over random things. Coming home to no one greeting you at the door, or snuggling in bed all by yourself. There’s no best way of dealing with it since everyone copes differently. Personally, I didn’t tell anyone except close family members just because it was so extremely difficult to talk about. You might be different, and thats ok. Maybe for you it’s helpful to tell as many people as possible so you can share the memory of your pet and feel the support of those around you.

For me it was most helpful to look through her photos, and allow myself to cry as much as I need to the first few weeks. I got a photo album on Etsy and spent time going through all the photos on my phone, and printed them out at CVS to start making a photo album. I also made what I call my “Stormy Shrine”. In my windowsill I put her urn, a photo, her paw print, and favorite toy, surrounded by some plants. This was I can see her and think about her every day.

It’s been 3 months now and I wouldn’t say I miss her any less, but the pain becomes more manageable. I can now talk about her without sobbing (for the most part), but I still have nights where I break down because I miss her so much. If you’re struggling with the loss of a pet don’t hesitate to talk to friends, family, or a therapist. They’re there to help and support you. Maybe not everyone will understand, but choose someone who can give you meaningful support. At the end of the day remember to be patient with yourself. Our pets are not “just pets”, they are a huge part of our life, our heart and soul. The sadness is proof that your pet was a huge part of your life, and is proof of the love you had, and that’s not a bad thing.