You come home with groceries and open the door carefully, leaving room for the dog who always tried to get their nose into the bags. Then you remember you can open it all the way.

After a pet dies, an ordinary task can bring their absence into focus. You might find yourself looking towards the chair where the cat slept, or checking the time because you would usually be heading home to let the dog out.

You know they have died. You can still catch yourself making room for them.

People may ask about the last day, particularly if your pet was ill. But you might be struggling with Tuesday afternoon, when you finish work and there is no walk to get ready for. Nothing much has happened. That is what hurts.

The house sounds different

A pet can make a surprising amount of noise without being especially loud. Their tags knock against the bowl. They turn around in their bed before settling, sometimes with a sigh that seems excessive for the effort involved.

A cat jumps down from the windowsill in the next room. You know that sound well enough that you barely need to look up.

When those sounds stop, the room can feel unfamiliar even though everything else is where you left it. There may still be people talking or another animal moving around. You are listening for one particular pet.

For someone whose bird called when they arrived home, the change might be noticeable before they have even taken off their coat. For someone else, it comes at bedtime, when there is no reason to leave a gap beside their legs.

The part of the day that belonged to them

Caring for a pet gives you things to do at particular times. Breakfast happens before your own coffee, or there is a walk after supper regardless of whether you feel like getting off the couch.

If your pet needed extra care towards the end of their life, the day may have become organised around that. You knew when medication was due. You checked whether they had eaten before deciding how long you could be out.

Then those jobs end, and the hours are still there.

You might find the extra time uncomfortable. You might also be relieved to sleep without listening for a pet who needs help. Feeling grateful for some rest does not tell us how much you wanted your pet to stay.

There is no need to assign every newly empty hour a purpose. If the usual walk time is difficult, you could arrange a call with someone then. You could take a different route outside, or decide that today you would rather stay home. These are small options to try, not instructions for how to grieve.

What to do with the things they left behind

The bowl may still be on the floor because moving it feels unbearable. Or you may have put it away the first evening because you could not bear to keep looking at it.

Those choices can come from the same feeling: missing the animal who used it.

If you are unsure, you can make a temporary decision. Put something in a cupboard without deciding whether to keep it forever. Leave the bed where it is while putting the food away. There is no practical reason that every belonging must be dealt with at once.

You may also disagree with someone you live with. One person wants the lead left on its hook; another finds it painful every time they reach for their coat. Before moving or giving anything away, ask. Something that looks like clutter to one person may be something another person is not ready to lose.

Photographs can wait, too

As a pet photographer, I want to be careful about what I promise photographs can do. A picture cannot make coming home feel the way it did when your pet was there.

You might want their face on your phone screen. You might find yourself watching an ordinary video because you can hear them moving around in it. Or you may know exactly where the photographs are and have no wish to open them yet.

There is no need to choose a favourite for the wall while looking through the gallery hurts. You can leave that decision for another day.

The same applies to making a memory book or writing down stories. These are possibilities, not jobs you have fallen behind on.

When someone asks how you are

It can be hard to explain why a quiet kitchen has upset you. Saying that you miss your pet may feel too broad, but describing the empty spot beside the fridge may seem too small.

You can be specific anyway. You could tell someone that evenings are difficult because your dog used to sit with you, and ask whether they have time for a call after supper. You might want to talk about your cat without having to explain the circumstances of their death again.

If the people around you cannot offer the support you need, a pet-loss support group or grief counsellor is another option. Cornell’s veterinary team includes both among its suggested resources and notes that grief does not follow a prescribed timeline. [Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine: Pet Loss Resources and Support](https://www.vet.cornell.edu/impact/community-impact/pet-loss-resources-and-support)

The University of Guelph’s OVC Pet Trust also offers pet-loss guides and interviews with professionals in veterinary medicine, social work and mental health. You can browse those without signing up for anything from Hearts & Halos. [OVC Pet Trust: Pet Loss Support Resource Centre](https://pettrust.ca/pet-loss-support/)

For now

You may not want to change anything about the house yet. You may need to move the chair or put the bed away to make the room easier to be in. It is possible to make one change and leave the rest undecided.

If someone asks what you miss, it is enough to tell them about the small thing that happened today. You opened a packet and waited for the cat to appear. You came home and had nobody to let out.

That was part of living with your pet. It is worth talking about.

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