For more than three decades, George Dickinson has been exploring the ways Americans handle death and end-of-life issues. So, we asked the 2009 Death Education Award recipient and acclaimed scholar to talk about one of his latest research interests – the issues surrounding the passing of a pet.
by George Dickinson
For many of us, a pet is a significant member of the family. We talk to pets and care for them as if they were our children. We tend to have a very human bond with our companion animals. Pets often live with us as many years as our children live at home before leaving for college or emancipation. Pets can make us feel needed, can relieve loneliness and can serve as friends and companions. Therefore, the death of a pet is a traumatic experience. As occurs with any other member of the family, that death leaves a huge void.
Our first childhood death experience typically is around the age of 8. And that first experience is often a pet. Recollections of this event are among our more vivid childhood memories. The death of a pet presents a good opportunity for a parent to explain death to a small child: The animal is immobile, not breathing, not eating or drinking because it is dead. This situation provides a setting for the parent to be a role model by being open with the child about what happened. If the parent cries, this lets the child know that crying is OK. It’s helpful if the parent is involved in a burial, if earth burial is the chosen means of final body disposal.
Our children had guinea pigs. A guinea pig’s lifespan is short, thus we had a lot of funerals for guinea pigs at our house. In our routine, I was the official grave digger; the children wrapped the animal in a cloth (shroud), placed it in the hole, covered it with dirt and then put a rock or something else over it to mark the spot in the backyard. As the ceremony progressed and the children related a memory of the pet, each of us felt tears rolling down our cheeks. Such parental participation showed my children that our companion animals had importance.
For adults, and especially the elderly, pets can be excellent companions. A dog, for example, typically wags its tail and genuinely seems happy to see its owner enter the house. The pet can help lessen a feeling of isolation and loneliness for a person living alone. The companion animal does not seem to get out of sorts about the stresses in life. A pet can be most relaxing for an individual stroking it and thus even contribute to better health for the individual. The loss of a beloved pet, therefore, can certainly be traumatic for the owner, who – no longer being needed by the companion animal – may feel a true sense of emptiness.
Unlike the person who loses a friend or relative and receives outpourings of sympathy and support, one who loses a pet is often ridiculed for overreacting or for being foolishly emotional. Such an unsympathetic response is called disenfranchised grief (grief not openly acknowledged, socially sanctioned or publicly shared). Today, however, the death of a pet is being recognized in many circles similarly to that of the death of a human – as evidenced by the recent development of Hallmark sympathy cards for owners of deceased pets. Grieving for a pet and for a human has many similarities: feeling preoccupied, experiencing guilt and mistaking shadows and sounds as being from the dead companion.
The death of a pet is experienced uniquely by veterinarians – especially when they are performing euthanasia, granting “merciful relief” from irreversible pain or an incurable malady. Though the states of Oregon and Washington now allow physician-assisted suicide, medical doctors are not allowed to practice euthanasia; and, for them, their role ends when the patient dies, as the follow-up functions are handled by medical staff, then the mortuary. Veterinarians, however, are often asked to dispose of the animal’s body. Additionally, veterinarians have the added pressure of a client asking for advice as to whether or not to “put the pet to sleep” (sleep, an interesting euphemism for death), and if so, when. The owner of the companion animal does not wish to euthanize too quickly, yet does not want to wait beyond the time when death perhaps should have occurred. Thus, veterinarians give advice, themselves not knowing when is “just right” for the death. Such stress is somewhat limited to the veterinary medicine profession.
From the veterinarian’s perspective, the most legitimate reasons for euthanizing a companion animal revolve around the animal’s quality of life. The final decision, however, rests with the human guardian. Following a decision to euthanize, the owner often has a feeling of regret for having given permission for euthanasia, no matter the severity of the illness or the animal’s incapacity.
Together with Paul and Karin Roof, I recently conducted an end-of-life survey of 463 veterinarians in the Southeast, and found that the average veterinarian practices euthanasia 7.53 times per month. The majority of companion animal owners opt to stay with the animal during the procedure, and two-thirds of owners leave the pet with the veterinary clinic for disposal. Those who leave the animal at the clinic more often choose cremation, while those who take the dead animal away typically bury the animal. It also found that veterinarians feel that more education on end-of-life issues is needed in veterinary school, though the more recent graduates feel more favorable toward their end-of-life education than earlier graduates. Currently, the 28 veterinary medicine schools in the United States average 15 hours on end-of-life issues within their curriculum. This is similar to U.S. baccalaureate nursing schools’ 14 hours and U.S. medical schools’ 12 hours on end-of-life issues.
Good, open communication by professionals is pivotal in any end-of-life discussion, be it involving a companion animal or a human. Whether the terminally ill family member is a
human or a pet, the process of dying and the event of death are among the more stressful experiences humans have. We can be supportive of each other and remember that a death – pet or human – should not be reacted to as disenfranchised grief; rather, it should be socially sanctioned and publicly shared.
Much like those for humans, hospices for pets are evolving in the 21st century. Some of these hospice programs focus on teaching pet owners how to care for their terminally ill pets at home, yet others handle the pet at a free-standing hospice facility. If euthanasia isn’t an option (the owner “simply cannot put Fido down”), hospice care might be the solution for a terminally ill companion animal. Palliative care within a hospice setting, where pain control is paramount, presents a peaceful way for an animal to die. And who wants to see anything/anyone die in pain when analgesics are a reasonable option? Is not quality of life better than quantity of life?
Pets – like family members – leave a tremendous void in our lives when they die. Life goes on, however, and we must cope with the loss. We should talk openly about our feelings. Grief shared is grief relieved. We don’t “get over” the loss of a family member, pet or human, but we simply learn to live with the fact that that member will no longer be literally present. Through memories, however, the human or companion animal “lives on.” Gone but not forgotten.
– George Dickinson is a professor of sociology.
Illustration by Angela Dominguez
