The Thought

Today, while my cat sat on my lap, as I stroked her silky fur and reminded her of how much I loved her, I had the thought.

It’s not the first time I’ve had the thought, but as the thought doesn’t happen every day, it stuck out.

It’s THE Thought™.

The thought every pet owner and lover in this realm has, and simultaneously hates to have.

It’s the thought that brings instant sadness. A wave of grief. A reminder that time is always passing, whether we’re taking the time to notice it or not.

The thought that breaks your heart. Puts a lump in your throat. Throws you into a mild panic attack even.

The thought that provokes both fear of the future and inspiration for changed behavior.

You know the thought….

One day, my sweet, precious pet - my baby - won’t be here with me anymore.

Usually, after THE THOUGHT™, I make promises of a changed future.

I’m going to be more intentional with my time! We’re going to make the most of what we have left together!

And unfortunately, not long after I make those promises to myself, the busy demands and responsibilities of life get in the way. My promise to myself - and my pets - is often left on my heart, and my to-do list that is ever-growing.

Let me be clear though - I am not writing this to shame myself (or others), nor to highlight times when I have let the demands of life brush aside the importance of intentionality with my pets.

This is not about that. We all do the best we can in whatever situations we are in.

You can only do the best you can with the tools, healing, and level of personal understanding that you have at any given moment.

Now that that’s clear….

What is this about?

Well, it’s about the next steps. It’s about documenting and planning and finding a path that allows this balance between life demands and intentionality.

BUT it’s mainly about intentionality. Connection. Appreciating the moments - big and small.

And most importantly, it’s about holding space. Holding space for time. For love. For the anticipatory grief that comes with loving our companion animals.

Let’s highlight that last one for a second - anticipatory grief.

What is Anticipatory Grief?

Put simply, anticipatory grief is the grief that comes before death or loss. It’s the grief we know we’re going to feel. This kind of grief can be applicable in a lot of situations - terminal illness, moving away from your childhood home, leaving a job you loved, knowing your elder family members will (likely) die before you.

In the case of our pets specifically, it’s the grief, sadness, and fear of loss we experience knowing that our companion animals - our furbabies - won’t live forever. The knowledge that one day, we will be without them.

That’s what THE THOUGHT is really about.

It’s the anticipatory grief of the impending separation we know is ahead of us.

For myself, today, anticipatory grief looked like me remembering that one day, my sweet girl, Gemma, will not be jumping on my lap for cuddles, purring happily as I hug her. One day, our ritual of her sleeping in between my legs every night will no longer be something I get to experience (a good reminder that, even on my more restless nights when I desperately need the leg room, I should still be grateful she’s there).

And in that moment, I acknowledged the loss that I’ll one day have, and just had immense gratitude for the current moment. For the time I do have.

I held space for the anticipatory grief I feel, and in that moment, it didn’t consume me.

Staying present is so important. Having gratitude for the moments we do have is vital. Neither of these will absolve all of our pain or loss, but they can do a lot to help us on our journey and make our time spent with our companions as intentional as possible.

That’s part of why I’m here and why The Moonlit Fang exists. To help you on your path. To provide hope through your grief journey, and to share in the visibility of our grief.

My soul pet, White Fang, the namesake of this company, passed away in 2020. I had the pleasure of sharing 14.5 years with him (almost half my life at the time of his death). I called him my moonlight because he always found a way to light my way on my darkest nights.

And in sharing his heart, that’s what I’m here to do.

To shine a light on your darkest night.

Til the end, xo.