Coping with pet loss: what actually helped me

I lost my dog Skylar on January 28th. She was a husky, 13 and a half years old, and she was my whole world. When she died, I didn't know what to do with myself. I still don't, some days.

There's no shortage of advice about grief online. Most of it is well-meaning and most of it doesn't help. So I wanted to write about what actually did — for me, in the weeks after losing her. Not as a prescription, but as one person talking to another.

Get out of the house

This was the hardest and most important thing. The house is full of them — the spot where they slept, the bowl, the leash hanging by the door. Staying home and sitting in that absence is brutal. It doesn't mean you're avoiding grief. It means you're giving yourself air.

I had a vacation already planned when Skylar passed. I almost canceled it. I'm glad I didn't. It was hard — grief travels with you — but being somewhere different, out of the routines we'd built together, gave me room to breathe. Even just a walk somewhere new helped.

Stay busy — intentionally

Idle time is the worst. Not because you should suppress what you're feeling, but because unstructured silence just loops you back to the same thoughts. Find something to put your hands on. A project. A show you can get absorbed in. I watched a lot of movies I loved — familiar ones, comforting ones. It helped more than I expected.

For me, building RememberMyPet.ai was part of this. It gave the grief somewhere to go. Not everyone needs to start a company, obviously — but having something to work toward, something that felt meaningful, made the days feel less empty.

Let yourself want what you want

I want a new puppy. I've wanted one since about two weeks after Skylar died. My husband isn't ready, which I understand — we grieve differently, on different timelines. But I've stopped feeling guilty about wanting one.

Getting a new pet isn't replacing the one you lost. It's not a betrayal. It's one of many things people do to move forward — and moving forward doesn't mean forgetting. Some people need time. Some people find that a new animal helps them heal. Both are okay.

Find people who get it

Not everyone will understand. Some people will say the wrong thing — not out of malice, just because they haven't been through it. That's okay. Find the ones who have. Communities like r/Petloss exist for exactly this reason. Reading other people's stories, even strangers', can remind you that what you're feeling is real and it's shared.

Preserve what you can

One thing I wish I'd done sooner was gather everything — the photos scattered across my phone, the videos, the memories I was afraid I'd start to forget. Grief has a way of making you worry about that. You don't want the hard days to be what you remember most.

That's the other reason I built this. A memorial isn't about death. It's about life — the 13 years, not the last day. Having a place to put all of that helped me more than I expected.

There's no timeline

You don't have to be over it in a week. Or a month. Or a year. The people who tell you it gets easier are right — but they usually forget to mention that it gets easier on its own schedule, not yours. Be patient with yourself. The fact that it hurts this much just means you loved them that much. That's not something to rush past.

— Meagan, founder of RememberMyPet.ai