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It is with sadness (but not exactly surprise) that I share the news that our goldfish Dill has died.
Dill joined the family on August 7th, 2009 as a tankmate for Ginger who was fading after Fred’s death. Ginger died two weeks later leaving Dill as an “only fish” for the next (almost) seven years.
Having been through the “get a pair of fish/one dies/get a new one/one dies” cycle too many times in my life, I said Dill would be our last fish. When Madeline was little we brought home Mulder and Scully and figured when they inevitably died, we’d put the bowl in drydock and set a nice pair of candle holders in that spot. Scully lived through three bowls and two (progressively larger) tanks during her eight year run. Next came Fred and Ginger. Fred had more personality than any fish I have known and I still miss seeing his boisterous “feed me feed me feed ME” can-can dance every morning.
Dill was a little comet and never grew very much. He was cute and very mild mannered. Last fall Dill had some health problems. With fish, often once you realize they have a problem it’s too late. I didn’t think he’d live to see Halloween but, after a lot of water changes, medicinal salt and increased aeration, he managed to pull through. He looked somewhat worse for wear with clouded eyes and fin splits that wouldn’t heal.
He’d been doing well recently (and never lost his appetite) but this morning he was curled over and not swimming much. I did a quick water change but within a couple of hours he was gone. He was laid to rest under one of the lilac bushes Madeline planted for me near where Scully, Fred and Ginger were all buried over the years.
This is the end of an era. No more fishies. I’m going to be donating our little 6 gallon tank (stored and kept for use as a “hospital tank”), nets and fake rock archway. The twenty five gallon acrylic tank has been emptied and cleaned and will find a new home with my friend Betsy. That seems somehow appropriate as Betsy is the one who gave us a gallon bowl and Whisper aerator that started this whole fishy business.
—Marit Livingood
It matters not one iota what species the critter is; once they’ve trotted, crawled, slithered, swum, or flown into your heart, they’re there to stay. You have my sinserious condolences. (And you KNOW I really mean it.) I’m proud of you for honoring all your finned friends under a lilac bush. That’s where all my sister’s pets have gone to rest in her yard, too. It is so much more fitting than a quick toilet flush.
Goodbye, sweet Dill. You were loved and will be missed.
—Sid Korpi
Join me today (Sunday, Feb. 10) for a discussion of pet loss and how to cope with it on Animal Blessings radio online at 5:30 p.m.–6 p.m. Central time.
Pets are more than just animals — they’re family. And anyone who’s ever lost a pet knows it’s terribly heartbreaking. Whether it’s your first time to lose a pet or your third, it never really gets easier, only more familiar. Thankfully, there are many ways to ease the sorrow and help you recover from such a devastating loss. If you or someone you know is suffering from the loss of a pet, then take a minute to read these seven tips to help you cope and return to a more peaceful state of mind.
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Allow yourself to grieve:
One of the most important things you have to remind yourself of following the loss of a pet is that it’s important and perfectly OK to grieve. Everyone grieves in different ways and for different periods of time. It may last a few days or a few years. Either way, it’s a completely personal experience that may require taking off work or spending some time alone to bounce back.
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Express your grief openly:
A big part of the healing process is expressing your grief openly. Don’t be afraid to talk about your feelings and memories. Holding it in will only make the grieving process more difficult and painful. This is especially important to remember when talking to your children about the loss of a pet. When explaining the situation, be sure to express your own grief and reassure your kids that it’s OK to be sad and that you also feel the same way.
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Spend time with your surviving pet:
Spending time with your surviving pet can help you cope with grief and ease the pain of losing an animal. Surviving pets may need a lot of TLC at this time because they are also affected by the loss. Even if they weren’t close, your surviving pet may whimper and act lethargic because they are distressed by the sudden changes. Comfort your surviving pet and try to create a positive emotional state within the home.
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Do something in your pet’s memory:
Whether it’s spending time at the park where you used to walk your dog, volunteering at an animal shelter, or making a donation in your pet’s memory, these special moments can help you turn a painful situation into a positive one. If you like to write, paint, or make music, you can dedicate it to your beloved pet.
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Keep a journal:
Keeping a journal is one of the best things you can do to record your feelings, thoughts, and memories about your pet and keep track of your grieving process. Doing so will help you work through the grief and make sense of the things happening around you.
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Memorialize your pet:
Memorializing your pet can help you overcome your loss and remember the good times you had together. You can have a memorial for your pet in private or with the company of friends and family. Some people write a letter to their pet or create a photo album and leave it by an urn or their pet’s burial spot. You can memorialize your pet on his or her birthday or anytime you feel like reminiscing.
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Seek support:
Many people have been in your exact shoes and know what it’s like to lose a beloved pet. Seeking support is a healthy and encouraged way to cope with the death of a pet. There are many forms of support available to grieving pet owners, including pet-loss support hotlines, pet bereavement counseling services, and online support groups with chat rooms and message boards where people can tell their story and share comforting words. Support can also come from friends and family who knew your pet and can help you hold on to the good memories.
My hubby will be my stand-in for this event. (I’ll be at the Carver-Scott Humane Society’s Walk Fur Love event at the same time.) Come see one of us if you’re out and about with your pet.—Sid
Bring your dog, and come have FUN! Try out agility, tracking, or K9 Nose Work®, do some shopping, have someone else give your dog a bath at our Dog Wash, and much more.
If you have a dog, then you can bring it along and have a blast.
If you know someone that has a dog, then pass this along, so they can join in the fun.
If you wish you had a dog, then come out and get your fix.
For more information visit our we site http://activedogsportstraining.com/?page_id=355
Free goodie bag for the first 100 people to sign in.
Sunday May 20 from 1-4 at Carver Lake Vet Center 2201 Ventura Dr. Woodbury, MN 55125
Sorry that the volume isn’t very loud, but you can get an idea of some of my pet loss presentation. Stick with if for a while, the sound gets a teensy bit better.—Sid
Please join me and host Janet Roper for a discussion of pet loss and holidays, among other things at http://www.blogtalkradio.com/talk2theanimals/2012/02/15/pets-matters-of-the-heart Tuesday, Feb. 14 at 8 p.m. Central Time.
For pets euthanized at home, a ‘last dose of love’
By Bob Shaw
bshaw@pioneerpress.com Updated: 11/07/2011 12:08:35 AM CST
Sid Korpi shows off clay paw prints of her pets, two of which were euthanized at her Minneapolis home. (Pioneer Press: Richard Marshall)
Undated photo of Sid Korpi’s cat Giles, who was euthanized at home by Minnesota Pets in August. (Courtesy to Pioneer Press: Sid Korpi)
Sid Korpi is glad that death makes house calls. When her cat, Giles, approached the end of his life in August, Korpi called on a unique in-home euthanasia service. Called Minnesota Pets, the St. Paul business does euthanasia—and only euthanasia. It has no clinic to treat animals, just four veterinarians who make about 20 house calls a week, each one ending an animal’s life. Customers say their pets die more peacefully at home. Korpi said that instead of dying in a clinic, her cat died in her lap, surrounded by love, peace and candlelight.
“There was no stress from cramming him into a carrier. I didn’t want to have to drive him somewhere with tears streaming down my face,” she said.
The idea for the business first dawned on Dr. Rebecca McComas four years ago, as her two beagles aged. Being a vet, she always planned to euthanize them at home. “I would never consider doing it in a clinical setting,” McComas said. “Then I started talking to other vets, and they said they wouldn’t do that in a clinic, either.” So, she asked, why would anyone? She knew that other clinics performed in-home euthanasias but wanted to have the first Minnesota business to specialize in them.
But the business does more than stick needles into dying animals. The vets are expert grief counselors. They dispose of the body afterward. And they offer mementos of the pet, such as a clay imprint of a paw. The basic visit costs $225, up to $375 for cremating the body and Advertisement returning the ashes. McComas helps customers deal with a form of grief that is misunderstood—and underestimated. When someone’s mother dies, friends and family share the grief. Everyone understands it. But when a pet dies, it’s not the same. “A lot of clients report that the loss of an animal, for people with a primary bond, is worse than that of a mother, father, sister or friend,” said Lisa Havelin, a grief support specialist with Minnesota Pets. “It’s incomparable. It’s much worse.”
That’s because pets spend an enormous amount of time with their owners. “We get used to them. They go in the car with us. We are with them all day,” said Havelin. “We do not spend that much quality time with other people.” That makes the loss of a pet hard to explain to others. “It’s disenfranchised grief,” Havelin said. But can’t a person who loses a pet just get a replacement? “For some people who do not have a connection with the animal, they can say, ‘Fine, I will replace a black lab with another black lab,’ ” Havelin said. In other cases, the animal-human bond is very strong.
“It’s just like with people. You may have a lot of people in the course of your life, but some stand out,” Havelin said. “I have had animals my whole life, but two or three of them have been especially difficult to lose.”
Sid Korpi holds a clay mold with paw prints of her 15-year-old cat Giles, who was euthanized at her home in August. (Pioneer Press: Richard Marshall)
Linda and Allen Anderson of St. Louis Park realized last summer that their 19-year-old cat, Speedy, was no longer living up to his name. “He was falling down,” Linda Anderson said. The cat stopped eating and drinking, and death seemed imminent. But McComas said cats are very hardy – and can sometimes live for weeks without food. That means that an owner determined to let nature take its course will watch the cat deteriorate—painfully.
For the Andersons, euthanasia in a clinic seemed too cold, too impersonal. “Speedy hated vets,” Anderson said. McComas showed up at the house, dressed in surgical scrubs and carrying a bag with the equipment. Together, they talked about Speedy’s life. “She was very kind,” Anderson said. The experience was perfect, she said. “To be able to do that, with him on my lap and my husband there, to give him that last dose of love—it was a remarkable experience.”
Korpi is a Minneapolis author of the book “Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss,” and an expert on grieving over lost pets. So when her own cat, Giles, was near death in August, she liked the idea of a peaceful death at home. When the vet arrived, Korpi lit a candle and dimmed the lights in the room. “Giles came right up to her. He knew what was happening—and he was grateful,” Korpi said.
She has been through euthanasias of 16 of her other pets. “Every single time,” she said, “I say that when I go, I want to go like that.”
Bob Shaw can be reached at 651-228-5433. Follow him on twitter.com/BshawPP.
So sorry for the delay in my getting this review posted. Upon returning from Gunflint Lodge and the Wagalot Dog Lover’s Weekend, I was greeted by a week’s worth of work assignments and then had to head out to Fargo for the Fantastic Fargo Film Festival/ValleyCon event to promote “Attack of the Moon Zombies”—winner of the Roger and Julie Corman Award for Intrepid Filmmaking!
Now, much delayed, is my chance to say a big THANK YOU to organizer Lisa Sellman of Aloha Pet Care Service and the owners and staff of Gunflint Lodge. We had a marvelous time at this fabulous, pet-friendly lodge. First off, the food was incredible!! Their chef at Justine’s Restaurant on-site at the lodge easily equaled the culinary skills of any 5-star chefs in the Twin Cities. And all the food, three huge meals per day, were included in the cost of the weekend package. All we paid for was taxes and tips.

Anthony (L) and I (R) are joined by friends Keith Davis and Lori Soyring at Justine's Restaurant at Gunflint Lodge
Then there were the fun activities Lisa arranged, such as the baking of holiday dog treats in our cabin, where nearly a dozen people and their dogs joined us. Here are some shots of the cabin itself and our pooches checking it out.

Oliver peeks down through the oar-shaped railing surrounding the second-floor loft space in our cabin.
Later on, I gave a talk about Pet Loss as Disenfranchised Grief to a receptive audience in the Conference Center.
Then we topped off the full day of events with a viewing of “Attack of the Moon Zombies.” As it turned out, Dan Moore, the man who is standing in the photo above, was one of the best friends of our director Christopher R. Mihm’s father, George Mihm! He was able to give us some terrific “dirt” on Chris’s 5th-grade exploits, which would have given us fodder for blackmail but Chris said all I could get from him was his “boatload of debt, a cat that pees on everything, and excess grumpiness” and besides, he’s proud of his shameful deeds involving drawing pictures of an illicit nature and photocopying them into little magazines for his friends to purchase. He dad apparently called this Chris’s “Larry Flynt Phase.”

Lisa's husband Rick sits next to Kodi and Dan. I'm in my '50s sweater and cat-eye glasses on the right.
On the last day of the retreat, I performed an animal blessing ceremony. Participants tried to hide from the high winds off Gunflint Lake. (When you look across the lake, you see Canada!)
Though we had a bit of rain the first couple of days, there was still some great hiking to be enjoyed in the Superior National Forest. Here, we wander along a Moose-siting trail.
In Grand Marais, we stopped by Gunflint Mercantile, owned by Chelsea Lueck (daughter of our friends Cal and Suzie Lueck, of Dad’s Belgian Waffles fame). Her fudge and candy shop was quaint, charming and demanded we buy a whole bunch of yummy stuff. Chelsea kindly offered to carry my book, “Good Grief: Finding Peace After Pet Loss” for sale and is sewing me a fabulous Westie apron for my upcoming instructional video on preparing raw dog food diets. (More on this as the scheme develops.)
Finally, on our way home, we take nourishment (and a potty break for the dogs) at famed Betty’s Pies in Two Harbors.