Help grieve loss of pet with art program

The sense of grief one feels upon the loss of a beloved pet can be debilitating.

Our own family recently suffered the unexpected loss of Cocoa, our beloved Portuguese water dog. Just a month short of her 11th birthday, we had to make the extremely difficult decision to say farewell to our furry family member who gave the four of us so much joy for so many years.

Bonnie Bagnulo of Niagara-on-the-Lake Community Palliative Care Service (CPCS) recognizes the importance our pets play in our lives. “Pet loss is a whole other level,” Bagnulo says. “And sometimes even more so, because they are with us 24/7. As everybody says, they are like our little fur babies. They are part of you, an extension of your family and your family members.”

Bagnulo knows personally the pain of losing a pet. An image of her family cat, smuggled into the house by her daughter when she was 10 years old, appears on the flyers promoting the session posted around town, along with Rupert, who was a member of the family of one of CPCS’ board members. “We called her Secret Kitty, just Kitty for short,” she says of the cat who lived with the family for 18 years. “We were never supposed to have a cat. She brought her home and we kept her a secret from my husband until one day, about two months later, he spotted her and finally caved in.

It was a similar story in the Balsom household with Cocoa, minus the subterfuge. My wife and two children, now 22 and 19 years old, worked on me for years trying to convince me that a dog was right for the family. I repeatedly resisted, standing my ground while my wife researched dog breeds to find the perfect fit. She discovered Cocoa, already named, by the way, in a litter of 10 from a breeder in Orillia.

We drove up to meet our potential sixth family member (we already had a cat named Kucha) and there was no turning back once the kids had picked her out. It took a while for Cocoa to grow on me. Those sleepless nights during crate training didn’t help. And at first I dreaded meeting other dog walkers who would stop and ask questions about her. I didn’t want to be a part of this canine-loving cult that I suddenly realized was regularly lurking on the streets of the Old Town.

But Cocoa grew on me, and became a faithful companion. She greeted me each and every day at the door when I would return home from work, happy to see me. And she would greet me with just as much enthusiasm when I would walk in after retrieving something from my car, having been gone for less than 10 seconds. And I started enjoying those brief on-street interludes with other dog lovers.

We didn’t know Cocoa had cancer until a week or so after she started limping. Our veterinarian at St. David’s Veterinary Clinic showed us the X-ray, and we were devastated. We took her home that day, prepared and served her one final “pup-uccino” and took her to Ball’s Beach for her final swim. Then my wife and I took her back to the clinic for our final tearful moments with her.

There’s a hole in my heart, in all of our hearts, that is still waiting to heal. And I still see her loving face in those spaces where she would often spend her time; in her dog bed upstairs, under the ginkgo tree in the backyard, on the couch that we all agreed almost 11 years ago she would never be allowed to sit on.

Understanding the hurt that many of us feel upon the loss of a dog, cat or other pet, CPCS is offering the first of many pet loss art workshops at their boardroom in the old NOTL hospital on Wellington Street next Thursday evening. Participants will be supported by three facilitators, who will lead them through an art project that will leave them with something meaningful and tangible that they can take home as a memorial to their pet.

“There’s a lot of open-ended questions, so the group can talk and share stories about the pets they have lost,” Bagnulo explains. “We’re hoping that it will bring a lot of peer support to them, helping them to validate and witness their grief and bereavement.”

She adds that the art projects will be chosen by the participants, who will be presented with supplies including clay, paint, papier-mâché, and markers. What they produce and how they produce it will be up to each individual participant. “They are asked to select whatever speaks to them,” Bagnulo adds. “Then, they go through the art program with the facilitators who lead them toward building the project.”

The program was developed with the help of a university student who worked with CPCS’ volunteer coordinator over eight weeks. “Our facilitators have all been trained to deliver the program,” Bagnulo says. “Though this is the first time we’ve offered it to the public. They did do it once with our volunteers. Everybody that went through it thought it was just amazing.”

Bagnulo remembers that group being very engaged. Sure, some of them shed a few tears. But for the most part it turned out to be a celebration of the lives of the pets as people shared great stories about them and what they brought into their lives. “They live in our hearts,” she says. “No one can ever take away our memories.”

Bagnulo adds that CPCS plans to offer the program about four times a year. “People lose their animals all the time, not just once a year,” she says. “We do bereavement with our clients all year, why not do this too? We want to have a program that helps people who lose their animals.” As with all services offered by palliative care, the pet loss art workshop is free of charge. The session is on Thursday, Nov. 3 from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. Call 905-468-4433 or email [email protected] to register.