Animal Loss Grief Support

Grief coaching for the loss of an animal in your care.

Work with me

When we think of support for those who are grieving the loss of an animal, we most often think of the death of a pet. And certainly, a pet’s death is heartbreaking. Too often “society” doesn’t honor or recognize the grief of those who lose their pets. Yet that grief is as valid and as profound as any other.

But what of those who care for animals that are not their pets?  They grieve those losses just as deeply.

Veterinary staff

…care for our pets throughout their lives learning their personalities and quirks. They may then have the unenviable task of humanely ending those lives when the time comes.

Fosters

…care for those animals that become our pets and other pets that no longer have a home. They open their hearts to these animals knowing they will be giving them up either to another home or to an untimely death.

Zookeepers

…care for animals, often wild and exotic, throughout the animal’s life, which can be from a few years to two or more decades. They’re involved in every aspect of their lives as we would be for our pets.

Wildlife Rehabilitators

…care for sick and injured wild animals – often staying up day and night to care for them. Despite their heroic efforts, too often they will not be able to save them.

What I Offer

Two (2) 45 minute coaching sessions per month
All sessions held on Zoom
E-mail contact as necessary between Zoom sessions
$200 per month
Contact me at diane@dianedevivo.com

Bo’s Story

Years ago, I adopted an 8 week old kitten from a rescue organization. His name was Bo and he was an all black fluff ball with chocolate brown eyes. Did I need another cat for my cat household? No. I already had three adult cats, but something about Bo stole my heart.

He fit right in to my cat triumvirate and my male Maine Coon adopted Bo as his own. I loved watching this tiny kitten follow my very large 19 pound cat around the house. When Bo wasn’t following his big brother or being groomed by his two sisters, he was snoozing on my shoulder as I watched TV.

We all loved him.

At his first vet visit he was pronounced healthy and thriving. At his second vet visit a month later the vet noted a slightly elevated temperature, but since Bo was active and eating well, we weren’t worried.

Until we were.

At four months old, two months after his adoption, Bo’s breathing became labored. I took him to the vet and went to teach a class. An hour later my vet called to say Bo had died. As they were setting up to do a chest x-ray, he took his last breath.

We found that Bo had FIP – Feline Infectious Peritonitis – an almost always fatal infection in kittens. There was no cure and no treatment for it but that did not make his death any easier.

I was heartbroken. All I could think about was how young and probably so scared he was without me there to hold him or comfort him. And I felt so guilty that I wasn’t with him. All these years later, I still remember that joyful, silly kitten and grieve the life he could have had.

After Bo’s death, I vowed that I would always be with my cats when they leave this life. I want my voice, my scent, my presence to be their last experience – so they know how loved they were. To this day, Bo’s legacy in my cat household still stands. I am there for them in life and in death.

Maggie’s Story

In the fall of 2020, in those crazy early months of the pandemic, I began working at a local zoo. One of the first animals I was drawn to was our aging spider monkey, Maggie. She was 31 years old and had lost her lifelong mate a month before.

Maggie was quite a character with a playful, mischievous spirit. She was in a large habitat with lots of space, lots of branches for her to swing from, and a very large window.

But she was alone. So the zookeepers spent extra time with her to keep her company and Maggie sought attention from the many guests who came to see her. She especially liked it when children visited, and she had many fans among them.

Maggie and I played “hide and seek” every time I visited her. She would hide in a corner of her habitat and when I would make a big deal out of finding her, she would climb up to the top of the branches and swing from them all around her habitat. She was a joy to watch.

Maggie had some serious health issues, and I knew she was near the end of her life. Two months after we met, Maggie died peacefully surrounded by those who had cared for her for years.

As much as I grieved her death, I couldn’t help thinking what the impact of her death was on those caretakers (zookeepers). I was so sad for them as well.

Maggie’s death made me realize that even if we don’t share our homes with these wonderful animals, we still feel their loss. Whether we are fosters, rescuers, zookeepers or veterinarians, any and all animal caretakers grieve the loss of an animal they have cared for. And that grief is as real and profound as any other.