I've hoped for a while now that not one sparrow could offer a safe place for our community to share the grief of losing a pet, and struggles of coping with their illnesses.  To that end, we're very pleased to be able to introduce not one sparrow's Companion Animal Suffering & Grief Support Group.  The group is hosted on Facebook (which for now is the most functional and accessible venue), and here's an introduction from our info page:  

"When our companion animals suffer it can be a very stressful and emotional time, and the pain and loss of saying goodbye can be staggering.  Having known the depth of these griefs ourselves, we hope this will be a place where you can share your own struggles and loss, as well as memories and tributes to your fallen friends, even their caretakers.  We pray you will find empathy and comfort from other Christians who care deeply for animals, and also find the grace to share sensitively in return."

This group would not be possible were it not for someone being able to take the lead in guiding it, and I'm deeply grateful that God brought Denise LaChance our way.  Denise is a graduate of Fuller Theological Seminary, a hospital chaplain and grief support group leader at her church in Los Angeles, and also an animal lover who lost her own beloved dog Ben only a few months ago (pictured below).  She couldn't be more suited to the role, and I'm very thankful for her willingingness to moderate the group.  Following is Denise's personal introduction ...

“But no one told me it would be so excruciating when he died,” a colleague quoted a woman who had stopped to pet her dog as they were walking.  The woman's friends had suggested some years ago that it might be good for her to get a dog.  She took their advice, got a puppy, raised him and shared her life with him for 14 years.  Then he died.  She had not gotten another dog.

My colleague told me this story for a reason.  I had choked up as I told her that my own dog Ben, a gentle, sweet and stubborn Cocker Spaniel, had died in October.  Actually, it was October 17, 2009.  And it was worse than that, he didn't just die.  I decided to have him “put to sleep” because I thought he was in too much pain from Pancreatitis.

It wasn't just that decision that was painful; it was all that led up to it: the glaucoma, the blindness, the adapting well to that, the surgeries, the new diagnosis of pancreatitis, and the incontinence, along with all the usual Cocker problems: the ear infections, the itchy paws, the need for thyroid medicine.  It was wondering whether I was doing the right thing, wondering whether or how I could afford the veterinary care, and whether it was even ethically responsible to spend so much on veterinary care.  It was the strain of the time needed for veterinary appointments and feeding special food and several medications twice a day.  It was wondering whether Ben was suffering more than he let on.  He didn't let on much, really.

After I had 'Gentle' Ben euthanized, I wondered whether he might not have been suffering as much as I thought.  Perhaps if I had increased his pain medicine for a while, that might have gotten him through the flare-up.  Perhaps I had acted too quickly.  Perhaps he could have still been with me for Thanksgiving and Christmas, into the New Year, 2010.  In the end I am comforted that I preferred my own pain to second guessing his suffering real pain.

I am a hospital chaplain, and the colleague who told me the story about the woman whose dog had died is a hospital social worker.  We both understand quite a bit about the grief process.  She told me that story to acknowledge the reality of my grief, to “normalize” it as we say in our line of work.  We know that grief is a natural response to a loss.  We know that each griever is unique, each loss is unique and brings its own unique pain.  We understand that experiencing and expressing the pain of a loss is the surest and quickest way through to a place of less pain.  We understand that second-guessing and regrets are part of the grieving process.  But none of this understanding of grief makes it hurt any less.

I am fortunate to have colleagues, friends and family who understand this.  Additionally, I lead a grief-support group at my church for people who have suffered all kinds of losses.  I was able to tell the group about Ben, without hindering my ability to facilitate the group, which includes people who have lost spouses and parents.  As an aside, a pastor in our congregation called me when she heard about Ben.  She was not only comforting, but also made me laugh when she said, “I know a great grief support group you might consider.”  But not everyone is surrounded by people who understand.  There are those who will say to a grieving parent, “you'll have another child.”  So I can only imagine what they might say to someone who lost a pet.

An internet group has some special advantages.  I am a private griever for the most part. I  feel comfortable crying at home alone, mostly.  I certainly have done that while reading Ben DeVries' story about Bubba.  But I know that each time I give myself permission to grieve, I am moving in the direction of less pain.  So I understand the value of having a place to safely tell the story of a loved one whose presence brought such joy, and whose absence is so painful, and a place to hear the stories of others.

All of this to say, I am honored to moderate this group for sharing the grief of losing our beloved companion animals, and the struggle of bearing their pain.  Yes, I have learned some things in ten years as a chaplain, however my more important qualification is that I am a fellow traveler.  May we each be comforted by the God of all comfort as we share this journey.

Feel free to send me a message on facebook or email me if you would like to communicate privately about a pet loss or illness.  Regards, Denise LaChance

(We welcome you to join our Companion Animal Suffering & Grief Support Group on Facebook; please take just a moment to read about the sharing and empathy we're hoping to foster, and moderation guidelines.  Photo courtesy Denise LaChance.)