On Pet Loss: How Will I Know If I Am Ready To Adopt (Or Not) After Loss - Know Your Intentions.
- Liz Weiner
- Feb 3
- 8 min read
Updated: 10 hours ago
People often ask my advice on when to bring a new pet into their lives after losing their beloved companion.
A little housekeeping before getting started…
There are many ways to acquire a pet, but for simplicity, I use the term adopt to describe the process of bringing a new pet into your life.
When I refer to “losing a pet,” I am referring not only to loss by death, but also literally losing your pet. The latter adds an additional layer to this decision because there is no concrete closure, and your adopting another pet may signify that you have accepted they are not returning. Incomplete endings make it especially complicated to move forward.
If this is too long for your attention span (I feel you), scroll to the end-ish and then to the very end for key takeaways and tips.
Many factors go into this decision, but for me, the most important question is to ask yourself, “Are you emotionally available to get into a new relationship?”
Getting to know each other and developing relationships takes time. This is true for relationships in general, but it is especially important to remember when adopting a pet after losing your beloved companion. If not, this can lead to resentment toward the new pet.
Tovi was like my favorite old comfy t-shirt that just “fit” and was what I threw on after a long day. I knew him better than I knew myself, and he was essential to the fabric of my life. After he died, I naively assumed that my next dog would have a carbon copy of his temperament because that’s all I knew. These expectations severely impaired my ability to connect with my next dog.
It was a few days short of three weeks since Tovi died when I adopted Millie. I was deep in grief — the kind of grief where I would cry every single day and struggle to get out of bed to face my new reality. I was sure that adopting another dog would bring me back to life. I needed That connection back. Read between the lines: “That connection.” My intention was to replace him — as if my new dog would slide right into the fabric of my life, and life as I knew it Before would continue playing.
I see now that I went into this new relationship putting an insane amount of pressure on my future dog. In situations like this, the new dog is often lovingly referred to as the ‘rebound dog.’
Let’s pause here. This is where we need to really quiet our minds, pause and check our intention for wanting to bring another pet into our lives.
You’re sad. Devastated. Heartbroken. Unable to function. Some people seek out comfort through another animal; others swear off ever getting another one because the pain of losing them is unbearable. And many of us fall somewhere in between.
I’ll start by saying there is absolutely nothing wrong with adopting a new pet soon after your beloved dies — your house is quiet, you are profoundly lonely, and the void of meows, barks, and pitter-patter of feet is unbearable. It makes sense that you may want a new companion. However, understand that a new pet will not bring with it the familiar connection you shared with your previous buddy that you long for. That nugget of insight was missing for me. I wanted my next dog to be my Part Two — the sequel — without understanding that it would be a brand-new movie.
It started innocently. I had my eyes on a few dogs I saw online, only to find out they had already been adopted. It’s a simple online profile, but I still got attached and felt grief toward the dog that “got away.” To say I was excited to have secured my first actual meet with a foster dog who seemed to check all of my boxes was an understatement. But, the foster mom canceled the morning we were to meet due to being sick. I couldn't wait any longer, so I dragged my husband to a shelter and picked the first dog I saw. I was like a two-year-old in a temper tantrum who needed to bring someone home with me.
It turned out I couldn't take Millie home with me that day because she had to be spayed. The next day, I woke up with an emotional hangover. Millie was a puppy (5 months), and I had vowed to adopt an adult (I wasn't cut out for puppy life). The age thing was the most concrete red flag, but I just knew in my gut it wasn't the right fit and that I was acting impulsively. But I was too ashamed to call the shelter and tell them I had changed my mind, so I quieted the screaming voice inside that tried to warn me. I had the opportunity to slow down and pause here, but I ignored it. Red flag #2 — don’t ignore your gut.
Millie turned out to be behaviorally challenged. I was fixated on how different she was from Tovi, which made me miss him a thousand times more by her simply being in my presence. I resented her for not being him (and yes, I realize how insane and mean this sounds — but grief can feel like being intoxicated when it comes to rational thought). She was far from the comforting presence I yearned for. Unlike Tovi, who loved everyone, she would growl at people we passed on walks. She destroyed parts of our home, housebreaking was hard, and she was afraid of everything, so no outings like hiking or sitting under a table outside Starbucks for us.
I harbored a lot of anger toward myself for being unable to wait a few days to meet the foster dog I had researched. Again, I’m blaming grief here because it can cause us to do things we wouldn't ordinarily do when we are at equilibrium, like waiting an additional three days to get a dog. But I can see now that even if I had adopted a dog with whom I meshed better, my unconscious intention was still to replace Tovi, and that was the wrong foundation on which to begin a new relationship.
Here’s the thing: If we get into a relationship and it’s not working, we break it off. After a few dates, you realize this person isn’t for you, and you go your separate ways. With a new pet — not so much.
So here I was, caring for this vulnerable, insecure creature while I could barely care for myself. Still, I gave her everything I had, not out of love initially, but out of obligation. I was a great dog mama to her, and I worked tirelessly with her. I spent an exorbitant amount of time and money on behaviorists and finding the right cocktail of psychiatric medication. I took her to agility classes to build her confidence, and at night, I would dress her in banana-patterned pajamas and sit with her, reading her children’s stories about happy dogs. She had a bed in every room and countless baskets of toys. I wanted so badly to fall in love with her, so I acted the part and was sure I could transform her into the dog I wanted. Co-dependent relationships are no stranger to me, so don’t think I don’t realize how awful this sounds.
Had I gone into adopting Millie consciously aware that this would be a brand new relationship, I’m fairly positive we would have had a smoother transition. I would have been open to new love and emotionally available to deal with the challenges that came along with this particular relationship. My deep grief may have been able to co-exist with loving a new dog, and it may have been a healing experience.
So, my insight on assessing when you are ready to get another pet:
Ask yourself if you have the emotional capacity to enter into a new relationship.
Are you open to beginning a brand new relationship with a pet who may be nothing like the one you’re missing?
Understand that this new pet will not be a carbon copy of your lost pet. It will have its own temperament, quirks, annoyances, and endearing qualities. Are you going to be okay with this?
Accept that bringing another pet into your life is not a betrayal of your previous pet. Bringing another pet into your life in no way negates the love you have for the pet you lost.
Remember, getting to know each other takes time and even more time for relationships to develop. That old, worn-in, comfy t-shirt didn't start that way.
Don’t judge the timeline — that is not what readiness means. Readiness is recognizing where you are emotionally and what you realistically have to give. And if you are ready sooner than you think you “should” be, don’t judge that. You know yourself better than anyone else — just make sure you listen to all your feelings, even the ones you want to pretend not to hear.
Spoiler Alert: There is no happy fairy tale ending where Millie transforms into the quintessential dog, and I fall madly in love with her. She lived a great life and was given so much love. Because she could be unpredictable, I was an overprotective helicopter mom, keeping her safe from triggers and adjusting my lifestyle to suit her needs. I never stopped working with her, and she made incredible strides during our time together. I was so proud of my girl.
I loved her, but I never fell in love with her. Every time you fall in love, it's an entirely different experience. I now know that even if she had a similar temperament, my bond with Tovi could never be replicated. And there's actually something really beautiful about that.
Millie died of cancer less than five years after I adopted her. Even though our relationship was complicated, that didn't stop me from taking measures like chemo in hopes of saving her. I was her person, and I would have done anything for her.
The grief I experienced for Millie was a completely different brand of grief than what I had experienced for Tovi, and I came to realize that grief is so tightly intertwined with the strength of the relationship. Just like every time you fall in love it's a different experience; the same goes for how you grieve. There was a peacefulness I felt around losing Millie. I was sad, but I wasn’t heartbroken, and I didn’t fall apart. She didn’t play the role of my rock the way Tovi had.
I found myself in serious dog withdrawal again, so six weeks later, I adopted Fred, and our journey began. This time around, I was open to getting to know a new dog and didn't expect — or hope for — a carbon copy of Tovi, and that made a world of difference in how we bonded.
I now understand that Tovi was my once-in-a-lifetime dog soul dog. I have had great love for my subsequent dogs, but I know he was the one love of my life, and I will never have that again. And I’m at peace with that. His sacred memory is tucked away in my heart, and I go on to love again.
It’s worth repeating: Every time we fall in love, it's a different experience — AND, it’s supposed to be.
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Visit my website, Pet Therapy Notes, for resources and more insights on pet love and loss.
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Giving Up A Pet:
Strained Relationships:
This Isn’t What I Signed Up For: Navigating Emotional and Behavioral Challenges In Pet Relationships
Loss:
Writing Your Pet's TAIL:
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