The part of grieving over pet loss no one talks about

I had a cat — her name was Pepper. She was a tiny, adorable kitten when I first got her, and from the moment she entered my life, she became more than just a pet — she was family.

Back in college, while juggling my studies in Manila, I would travel back and forth to our home in Bataan just to spend time with her. No matter how exhausting school was, seeing her made everything better. But in October 2023, I lost her.

As a fur parent, you never imagine anything terrible happening to your beloved pet. They are cherished, surrounded by love, and you believe, somehow, that love is enough to protect them. But the reality is, life can be cruel, and when they’re gone, the grief  can be overwhelming. 

The phone call 

I will never forget that phone call. Oh, I remember it so vividly, the way my heart shattered into pieces.

I was in Manila, preparing for an exam, when my eldest sister sent me a message: “Do you have time? Let’s call.” I didn’t think much of it — she often prefers calls over texts.

When I answered, I saw both of my sisters on the screen. Their eyes were filled with tears, their faces heavy with something they didn’t know how to say.

"Be, si Pepper…" one of them started.

That was all it took. The moment I heard her name, everything clicked—the confusion, their expressions, the sinking feeling in my chest.

I panicked. I went into denial. It couldn’t be true. It didn’t make sense. I had just left home the day before, and she was perfectly fine. How could she be gone?

My sisters told me Pepper had somehow slipped out of the house during the night. Later, they found her lifeless body on the road. She had likely been hit by a passing car.

The next day, I still took my exams. I showed up, but I knew I didn’t do well. How could I? How do you sit in a classroom, pretending to be okay, while your heart is drowning in grief?

Letting them cross the rainbow bridge 

When I finally made it back to Bataan, I stepped into our house, and the silence was deafening. No excited little cat running to greet me, no familiar high-pitched voice from me telling her how much I missed her. The warmth of home suddenly felt colder.

My sisters did everything to comfort me. To them, Pepper was family, too. Even my dad — who was initially skeptical when I brought home a black cat — eventually grew fond of her. I remember him casually carrying her around, playing with her, as if she had won him over without trying. That was just who she was — loving and sweet.

I thought the pain would ease with time, but instead, I found myself asking: Why hasn’t Pepper visited me in my dreams? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Was she mad at me for not being there when she needed help? Did she cry out for me that night, waiting for someone to save her?

I blamed myself and felt guilty for not being there. But my sister gently told me, “You have to let her go.” Maybe that was why Pepper hadn’t visited me — because I was holding on too tightly, not allowing her to cross the rainbow bridge.

I wasn’t just mourning a pet; I was mourning my best friend. But I soon realized that holding onto my grief wouldn’t bring her back, and I had no right to keep her from running free.

So, to anyone who has ever struggled with this kind of loss — don’t hold on for too long. Let them cross.

Finding peace in grief 

Losing Pepper taught me about love in different ways. It showed me that love isn’t measured in time but in moments, in the joy and warmth they bring into our lives.

Grieving a pet means getting emotional over the little things — the untouched food bowls, the squeaky toys left around the house, the cat hairs on the furniture, the lingering scent of them in your favorite corner. And yet, amidst the pain, you also realize that their life — no matter how short — was a life well-lived.

Every pet’s passing is a celebration of their existence, just as it is for us humans. Life is not just about the time we spend on Earth but about the love we give, the happiness we bring, the moments that define us.

To my dearest Pepper, I hope you’re at peace, knowing that I am, too. I hope you know how much you were loved and that, in your short time here, you made me feel so incredibly loved in return.