Pet Loss Hurts Too

Larkspur Executive Director, John Christian Phifer, shares his experience of grief and mourning after Pet Loss, as well as how natural burial can be a helpful way for people to honor their animal friend.


When Nelson died in 2021, I was unsure as to how to reach out to people. How would I tell them that the creature, who I spent more time with than any human, was gone? I felt almost silly about it. I mean, I’m a grown ass man crying over a little dog. Nobody cares, right? Suck it up. It doesn’t matter. There are bigger things going on in the world. People are dying of Covid for Christ’s sake.

 Nelson the dog posing in front of a flourishing garden of flowers.

I felt completely out of control. I cried more over a 16 year old Cairn Terrier than I did over the body of my 94 year old grandmother. Nelson was always there. Unconditionally. I was responsible for his everyday life and I knew I was crazy about him, but I never expected losing him to be this hard. Is it possible that one of my most profound connections with another being in the world was with a dog?

Nelson died on a Thursday morning after suffering a seizure on our morning walk. The emergency VET agreed it was time and that if any treatment was to be successful it would only be temporary. Since I’ve spent my life studying death, I knew quality of life far outweighed quantity. Looking back at old videos, I could see how much he aged and how much he slowed down. It was almost as if I thought he would just live forever. Nelson was tired. I didn’t want to be the one to drag him along on a selfish leash for my own comfort or happiness.

It was important to me to spend a few last moments with him. I told him what a good boy he was and how much I loved him. I whispered to him, “I’m right here.” I rubbed his face and ears just how he liked it, and he slowly lowered his head into my palms. I curled him up in his favorite blanket and wrapped my arms around him. He was gone.

I took him home and placed him on his bed in the living room while the sunlight dappled across him. It was his favorite spot. I laid myself down on the floor beside him in disbelief, not really knowing what to do. I tried to listen to my own advice that I often give to families: be still, slow down, don’t rush, be gentle with yourself

Friends and neighbors came in to visit, some brought flowers, others cookies or a bottle of bourbon. Others brought cards, more bourbon…

 Nelson the dog placed on a soft pillow in front of lit candles during a home wake.

He looked just like he was sleeping (he was always great at naps). I kept thinking to myself, I can’t believe he’s dead, and he’s just in my living room. But it’s exactly the way it should have been. It’s the way it used to be when a family member died. After death, loved ones were kept at home for folks to come by and say goodbye. That designated time for mourning respected the weight of such loss, and gave everyone a space to honor life.

Before modern medicine they called this time “the wake” because they literally wanted to make sure death was real and the dead didn’t wake up. I’m glad I took that time for myself, my friends, and the neighbors that loved Nelson.

The following day I drove to Camden to my childhood home, the little farm where I grew up and began my care for the dead. My family calls it “Little Larkspur.” We dug a grave down near the creek. Nelson was buried on a bed of moss with roses and larkspur—flowers friends had sent. He went back just as he came in, a little black, gray, and brown dog in a big ol’ world. We planted a fern on his grave and more bright green moss. His grandmother and granddaddy helped with every detail.

 Nelson the dog curled up in a bed of bright flowers in the bottom of his grave.

He could have been buried at Larkspur but something about home, where it all started, a place without leashes and all the green beans he could eat, felt right.

This is all to say, when someone loses a beloved companion animal the grief is just as real and sometimes even more complicated than if it were a human in the grave. I never realized how profound the grief was until now, but from here on out I will know how to be a better friend when someone loses their animal companion.

I’ll never forget that little dog rescued in the middle of the night while running in traffic during a rainstorm. Born in a puppy mill and sold at mall pet store. Best dog I ever had. Some say he hit the lottery, but I think it may have been the other way around.

Boxcar Willie Nelson 2005-2021