Relationships are complicated. And beautiful. And sometimes devastating.

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 Maybe you've lost a pet you're madly in love with, and the world just fell out from under you. Perhaps you are grieving the lack of connection you're feeling to a new pet (relationships take time to develop). These are only the bookends of the range of how we experience grief.  When it comes down to it, the relationship we share with our pet is among the most powerful we will ever experience, so if it pains you, it counts.

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When we lose a pet, we lose not only their physical presence, but also a part of ourselves. We lose our source of unconditional love and support, the silent witness to the most personal moments of our lives, and the routine and structure that shaped our days. Their little bodies hold precious memories of our past selves, and losing them can signify the end of a certain chapter in our lives. If you have this connection, it's gutting. You'll find support here.

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On the other end of the spectrum, pet ownership isn't always the idyllic experience we see in Hallmark movies, and there is a distinct feeling of shame in admitting that the relationship isn't going well. Training has the power to transform relationships, but there is an entire emotional aspect we also need to address. ​ It feels taboo, but talking about the hard things can be the only way to improve relationships. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try to make it work, there are irreconcilable differences, and parting ways is the kindest decision for all. ​​​​​​​​​

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 In this no-judgment, no-shaming zone, I  want this to be a place where we can talk about all of the things.​ The things that feel shameful. The things that leave us weighed down with guilt. The things that break our hearts. This includes stigmatized losses, like behavioral euthanasia, tragic accidents, and rehoming a beloved pet. 

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​​​Why do I do this?

Having simultaneously been entrenched in various forms of grief over the years, I became fascinated with studying it. It began in 2018 following the death of whom I endearingly refer to as my "soul's dog," and then, subsequently, an entirely new type of grief related to not connecting with my next dog. ​Let's just say it was a bad time in my life, and I didn't feel safe talking about it outside the walls of my therapist's office.

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While I have a clinical background, I am not a professional in this field, and my most honest writing emerges from personal experience. None of this is professional advice. The best way I can describe my relationship with this site is as a hobby. This site intentionally generates no income (no affiliate ads or kickbacks), and it is run by me, who has absolutely no experience in website design, so please excuse the very amateur feel.

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In addition to my writing, you will find carefully curated external resources that have helped me cope with all things pet loss. Google can be an overwhelming place, so this is where I store the things that have been helpful to me. Closest to my heart is a “Tell Your TAIL” page that encourages writing and other creative mediums as tools to not only facilitate healing, but also keep your pet's memory alive.​

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We all have something that brings meaning to our lives- this is mine.​​​

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With love from Baltimore, 

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Liz

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