BPD and "Best Friends" - Mourning the Loss of a Pet

My family got together for Labor Day. While we had a good time (my nephews and niece, all age 3 and younger, have discovered water balloons), I left worried about my brother Dan. Dan is depressed because his cat, Elfman, is sick, possibly cancer. He's doted on this cat for twelve years, and was down enough to not have interest in the steak Dad grilled (if you know Dan, you'll know that's serious). It reminded me that some people with borderline personality disorder (BPD) may take the loss of a pet especially hard. So here are some tips on how to get through the loss of a "best friend" of the fur variety.

Acknowledge your grief

To the outside observer, Osiris was a rat. To me, he was my furkid. A jumbo rat with a black head, black eyes and black and white body, he was affectionate, always wanting to be near any human who happened past his cage and freely sharing kisses. But as he got old, he started to suffer. On my 24th birthday, he could barely move. I took him to the vet, knowing he was a goner but wanting to spare him any further pain. The vet was understanding and let me watch as he was put to sleep. The process was peaceful--she gave him an anesthetic before injecting him with the medicine--and that was some comfort. But as I left the vet's office with his body, I started crying.

Regardless of how silly you feel, you are experiencing a very real loss. Pets are a part of the family. While it is difficult for anyone to lose a pet, to a person with BPD, it may trigger feelings of abandonment. That is why it is crucial to acknowledge the loss--it is a legitimate pain, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Grief involves five stages--denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. You don't always go through these stages in that order, nor do you necessarily go through each stage once. Knowing this makes it easier to deal with grief.

Remember the good times

The loss of a pet is similar to the loss of a person in that it helps to remember the good times. I dealt with Osiris's death by remembering the good times I had with him. I remembered how he loved to ride on my shoulder. I smiled as I thought about his Pavlovian reaction to my alarm clock, which to him meant breakfast. And I laughed to myself as I remembered how he loved the marinara sauce from Papa John's pizza--I always ordered extra sauce on the side for him. I even took him to class a couple of times when I was still in college. I remembered the good times.

What good times did you have with your pet? What made him or her special? Why did you love him or her, and what indicated that he or she loved you back? Ask yourself these questions, find the answers, and feel your grief partially resolve.

Believe they're better off

If you haven't heard the story of the Rainbow Bridge, I highly recommend reading it. I firmly believe Osiris is no longer suffering and is in a better place and that we will reunite. Is it crazy? Probably. Does it help me feel better? Absolutely. If it's stupid but it works, it isn't stupid.

The most compassionate pet care decision you can make is to know when to let one go.