If you’ve ever sat with your aging or ill dog and felt a wave of sadness wash over you while they were still right there beside you, still breathing, still warm, still yours, you were experiencing anticipatory grief. I did it. When Barbo and Boo were both in the later years, sometimes I’d just cry thinking about how I knew they didn’t have much time left. They weren’t even really in a state of decline at that time, but I knew they were senior dogs and I knew dogs don’t live forever.
Sometimes you may not even realize what it is. It just feels like a low feeling of sorrow that follows you through your days, as you’re giving medication or maybe as you’re taking a shorter than normal walk. And sometimes, it’s a weight that you feel even during the good moments. It is grief, and it is real, and it starts long before the final goodbye.
Anticipatory grief is the mourning that happens before a loss occurs. With dogs, it often begins at a diagnosis, or when you notice the first signs of decline: the slower walks, the unsteady steps, the change in appetite, the nighttime cognitive fog that makes them seem somewhere else even when they’re right in front of you. It begins the moment you understand, on some level, that time is finite in a way it wasn’t before.
One of the reasons anticipatory grief can be so disorienting is that it is confusing. It becomes part of your everyday life and you might notice a constant low-level sadness or anxiety that you can’t quite shake. You might find yourself hypervigilant about symptoms, keeping track of every good day and bad day with an intensity that exhausts you. Or, you might feel guilt about the decisions you’ve made, or fear about the ones you still have to make. All of it is emotionally depleted even though your dog is still here and still needs you.
One of the hardest things about this kind of grief is the paradox at the center of it: your grief is present, but your dog is still alive. You are mourning someone you are still caring for, still loving, still showing up for every single day. That is an enormous thing to hold, and most people keep it to themselves, because the world outside doesn’t always make room for grief that hasn’t fully arrived yet. This is common not only with pets but we see this grief with those who having loved ones struggling with Alzheimer’s or dementia. Their person is still alive but often they’re just a shell of who they love.
One of the things I was acutely aware of when it was happening was that I felt like I was “ruining” the good moments being sad about the future. When anticipatory grief is happening, it can pull you out of the present and instead of taking in the present moment together, your mind starts thinking about what it will be like without them. I started remembering memories while they were still right here. Anticipatory grief has you living in a future loss while the present is still unfolding.
Part of my work as a companion animal death doula and grief companion is helping people find their way back to the now. Your dog doesn’t know how much time is left but they do you you’re there. Even if they’re in a state of cognitive decline I know they know your smell, your voice and your presence. Being present with them doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine but it does mean letting yourself have the moment that’s actually in front of you, without guilt, even if grief is there too.
Joy and Grief Can Live in the Same Moment
I’d said this before and I’ll say it again. Conflicting feelings can share the same space. There’s sometimes an idea that feeling happy while your dog is declining means you’re not grieving enough, or not taking the situation seriously enough. That if you laugh at something they do or feel a surge of gratitude on a good day, you’re somehow betraying the weight of what’s coming. But that’s not how it works.
Joy and sadness often exist in the same space when you’re loving someone through their final chapter. You can feel grateful for a good day and heartbroken that the good days are numbered. You can feel profound love and profound fear simultaneously. The grief starting before the goodbye doesn’t make the present joy less any less real. And that moment of joy doesn’t diminish the grief. The deeper the bond, the more room there is for both, and holding them together is not a contradiction. It’s the most honest way to love.
I lived with anticipatory grief for years while caring for my senior dogs, Mr. Barbo and BooBoo. Barbo’s decline was long and slow, stretching across a year or two of pain management, medical interventions, surgery, meds trials and constant quality-of-life monitoring. I loved him fiercely but I was also completely exhausted. I was present with him as much as possible but I was also always bracing for what was coming.
When Barbo passed, the grief didn’t end. Even though Boo was still relatively healthy at 13, Barbo’s death made me acutely aware that time with Boo wasn’t infinite, either and a new wave of anticipatory grief arrived. This one was rooted less in illness and more in the simple, painful reality of inevitability of losing her.
That experience, navigating Barbo’s decline and trying to prepare myself emotionally and practically for losing Boo, is what led me to become a companion animal death doula. I saw how little support existed for this particular part of grief and how lonely it can feel to carry it, while still showing up and being present for the dog who needs you.
Ways to Cope
There’s no way to make anticipatory grief disappear, but there are things that can make it more bearable. Naming what you’re experiencing is one of the most powerful first steps. Simply calling it anticipatory grief, and understanding that it’s real grief, can reduce the shame and self-judgment that often come with it. Letting complexity exist matters too. You’re allowed to feel grateful and devastated at the same time. You’re allowed to love deeply and still feel tired.
It’s hard to do on some days but anchoring yourself in the present, focusing on what your dog enjoys today rather than what you fear about tomorrow, can also help. Creating meaning, through photos, journaling, voice recordings, or simply paying close attention, can also be valuable, though none of it is required. I found comfort taking videos and pictures and recording their vocalizations like barking and snoring. But, if this doesn’t feel right to you, remember, love doesn’t need to be documented to be real. I knew I would want a library of those things to have and hold close to me when they were gone, but other people can’t do that and that’s OK. Seeking support, from a grief companion, a pet loss doula, or an online community of people navigating the same terrain, means you don’t have to carry this alone and can be very helpful during this window of time.
Loving a dog through their final chapter is one of the most profound things we experience. The pain of anticipatory grief isn’t premature or misplaced. It is love and grief, showing up early.
If you’re in this right now, I want you to know that your grief is valid. And you don’t have to figure this out on your own. I created a free resource specifically for people navigating anticipatory grief, covering what it is, what it looks like in daily life, how to stay present, and how to find support. You can download it here.
If you’re in the thick of this right now, I see you. What you’re feeling makes sense. All of it.
You don’t have to figure this out alone.
Your story matters.
Your bond matters.
Your grief matters.
And I’m here to help you honor all of it.
If you’re looking for support, I offer pet loss grief companion services for people navigating exactly this. And I’ve put together a collection of grief resources here that I update regularly.
If you would like to support my efforts and make a contribution to allow me to continue to create free resources like my blog and all of my other free resources, you can Buy Me A Coffee!
Thanks for being here!
Proud Partner Of The Farmer’ Dog. Get a special discount on your first box.
(This post contains affiliate links. If you click the link, I earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you.)
