Goodbye, Michael

Michael (left) with a younger Hero - the first moment they sat together.

Today’s post has been extremely difficult for me to write.

Less than a week ago I said goodbye to Michael, the cat I’ve cohabited with for most of my adult life. At 17 years and 7 months old, after several years of very stable, well-managed chronic kidney disease, Mike got worse. Her appetite reduced over the last few weeks, and despite medication, fluids and lots of TLC her quality of life took a nosedive very quickly.

It was paramount to me that she did not suffer. She died in her family’s arms, in a room full of people she loved and who loved her. She was a uniquely outgoing cat – she would approach visitors (one – a cat lover – said she could be “intimidating” in her enthusiasm!). She chased large dogs out of the house. She would solicit a chin scratch or belly rub from anyone. Inspect any suitcase/handbag/backpack or shopping bag. Conquer paper bags and cardboard boxes. Go through the groceries before they were put away.

Boxes were also fair game.

I adopted her when I was a veterinary student undertaking a volunteer, live-in position in a local veterinary hospital. At just four months old she had been picked up by a good Samaritan, having attempted to cross the treacherous Parramatta Road by herself. She was put up for adoption, but quickly moved into my bedroom.

I did a cursory examination and thought she was a boy. I named her after Detective Mike Hoolihan, the lead character in the Martin Amis novel I was reading at the time: TheNight Train. This was fortuitous. Detective Mike Hoolihan was female – as Mike turned out to be.

She put up with a lot of time away on my part doing prac work, sat in on study groups (sat on where possible), and was always there at home when I was working long hours to comfort me after a day at work.

When the vet clinic I was living in was broken into, she was the one who woke me, with her hackles up and her coat so puffed up she looked twice her size. She was growling at the door and ready to take on the intruder, who fortunately fled the scene.

She’s moved house with me, supported me through several intensive periods of study, and motivated me to try to improve the world for companion and non-companion animals alike.

I really believe that until her last day she enjoyed a life worth living. It was the right time to let her go, although being in a home without her feels empty. She would normally wake me. Realising his food source was sleeping in, Hero eventually woke me this morning and we both looked for Mike. Normally Michael would herd me down the hallway and into the kitchen. It was always about food, except when her kidney disease really kicked in. In the last few months she would usher me into the bathroom first, demand I fill the bath a little with cold water, and have a drink before breakfast. And then chase that with a glass of water on the coffee table, before heading back to bed.

Like other cats with kidney disease, Mike was constantly drinking. She preferred drinking from glass - preferably someone else's.

There are a hundred daily routines she won’t be part of anymore and each one, right now, is an unexpectedly painful reminder of her absence.

Grief is a very personal thing and people experience it differently. Losing someone after almost 18 years, someone I connected with on a daily basis in a very real and tactile way, is hard. Being a vet possibly made the decision easier, and I was able to euthanase her myself, respecting her preferences. She deserved that – she put in at least as many hours in the study as I did over the years (if she wasn’t in the kitchen, we’d say “Mike is in the office, doing the hard yards…).

If you could learn by osmosis by sleeping on textbooks, Michael would have been an honorary professor by now.

But it hasn’t made grieving any easier, nor has knowing she was old and “had a good innings”. Despite what I know about grief, I think I really thought it would. 

In our work, veterinarians experience the loss of patients far more frequently than doctors do, but it doesn’t give us mastery over grief.

I’ve been flooded with memories. Michael, the times we lived through, the patients she met and comforted, and the losses she comforted me through. The friendly head-butts, the gentle paw in the face to get me up in the morning. All I could do the day she died was look at every Michael photo I had. She was in the midst of every family gathering. She put up with Hero through his annoying kittenhood phase. She helped teach veterinary students – she appeared (photographically) as a case study in classes, her tufts of discarded fur were donated to a research project on humane rodent deterrence. She spent much time being warmed by this very keyboard and it still contains tiny traces of her fur.

A colleague sent me a paper about the dual process model of grieving, which holds that we tend to oscillate between loss-orientated and restoration-orientated processes for a while, and I’ve found myself fluttering about in this space. Loss-oriented processes are things like grief work, intrusion of grief, denial/avoidance of restoration and breaking bonds or ties. Things like poring over old photos or formally recording Mike as deceased on the Companion Animal Register. Restoration-oriented processes include attending to life changes, distraction from grief, doing new things, and establishing new roles, identities or relationships(Williams and Green, 2016). This is the bit I am working on at the moment, but its still a bit raw. A veterinary colleague who lost his dog late last year said to me "its like feeling demyelinated". 

In Michael’s honour I am raising funds for the Cat Protection Society of New South Wales. They do an extraordinary amount of advocacy for cats, from rehoming cats to making important submissions on animal welfare policy. Thousands of cats and kittens have enjoyed better health care and welfare, and avoided suffering, due to their work. Donations over $2 are tax deductable. If you wish to donate you can do so here.

 

UPDATE: before I finished this post, Michael’s page raised over $1500 which was our modest goal. I am so grateful to the people who have donated. If you would like to make a donation to the Cat Protection Society via Michael’s page you can still do so.

Michelle de Kretser, in the Sydney Morning Herald this week wrote a beautiful article about losing her dog Minnie.

You can read the full article here.

I am very grateful for the kind words from clients, colleagues and others who have shared the impact of losing animals they bonded with over the years.

Reference

WILLIAMS, B. & GREEN, R. 2016. Understanding bereavement in animal owners. In Practice, 38, 140.

Do pets grieve for each other?

Owners report that dogs and cats exhibit behaviour changes when a companion animal dies.

Do companion animals grieve when another animal in the household dies? It is a question often asked of veterinarians, and the truth is we don’t know. Where an animal from a multi-animal household dies in a veterinary hospital, it is common for the owner to request that the other animal/animals see the body. One question I’ve always wondered is whether this helps other animals, or does it reinforce a fear of the veterinary hospital? Or neither?

We also see our fair share of animals who are lethargic or display other signs since the passing of a household member. Sometimes we cannot find a cause, at other times there happens to be an underlying illness.  I’ve seen enough of the latter to advise owners whose pets are lethargic or off-colour following the death of a companion animal to come in for a check-up.

We don’t know much about grief in animals. There are dozens of reports of elephants having very strong reactions to the death of a family member, and spending a lot of time exploring bones and carcases. There are reports that many primates continue to carry deceased offspring – for hours, days, weeks and even months. Then of course there are studies documenting the stress response in farm animals (for example, dairy cows and calves) when separated from one another.

Unfortunately, we can’t ask the animals themselves. But we are getting a bit better at measuring both negative and positive emotions in other species. For example, comparative study of nervous systems, behaviour and physiology evaluation, qualitative behaviour assessment, and detection of cognitive bias are often used. Observations can also highlight trends in behaviour which can be further explored.

A paper by Jessica Walker and colleagues found that, at least from the owner’s point of view, the behaviour of dogs and cats changed following the loss of a conspecific.

They analysed 279 surveys from owners who had lost a dog or cat in the previous five years. According to the owners surveyed, the most common types of behavioural changes related to affectionate behaviour and territorial behaviour. Thus 35 per cent of dogs demanded more attention from their owners following the passing of a conspecific, 26 per cent became more clingy or needy, and 10 per cent sought less attention from the owner. A total of 60 per cent of dogs showed changes in territorial behaviour, with 30 per cent seeking out their former companion’s favourite spot, and 14 per cent spent increased time hiding. Changes in sleep behaviour were common in dogs (42 per cent), with 34 per cent sleeping more than previously. Both the amount and speed of eating changed, with a decreased amount eaten by 34 per cent of dogs and reduced speed of eating in 31 per cent. The behaviour changes lasted from 2-6 months.

Cats differed, although when it came to behaviour changes relating to affection they were similar to dogs, with 40 per cent demanding more affection, 22 per cent reported to be more clingy or needy and 15 per cent seeking less affection. Almost two thirds showed a changed in territorial behaviour, mostly (36 per cent) seeking out the other animal’s s favourite place. Unlike dogs, cats changed the frequency and volume of vocalisations, so for example 43 per cent of cats vocalised more often. The duration of the changes relating to affection was 2-6 months, while other changes lasted around 2 months.

In terms of seeing the body of the deceased animal, 58 per cent of dogs and 42 per cent of cats saw the body, but owners reported no difference in behaviour changes between animals that saw the body and animals that didn’t. Most animals (73 per cent) sniffed the body of their deceased companion, but it is impossible to conclude what thought process was going on. For example, failure to sniff or engage with the body does not rule out recognition of the body or grief.

So what can we conclude? The authors acknowledge some limitations to the study. The survey was completed by owners who volunteered, and may have been biased towards those who felt they’d noted a change in the animal’s behaviour. Owners might also be biased in expecting grief or behavioural changes they associated with grief.

And we have to interpret the findings with care. Behaviour changes do not prove grief. For example, I was devastated when my cat Lil’ Puss died due to cancer. Yet the other cat, Michael, seemed to blossom and flourish in the wake of Lil’s death. As the authors of the study point out, behaviour change may be a result of reduced competition for access to the owner, or removal of a resource competitor for food or territory. Its often the case that animals in a household are of a similar age. Therefore changes in sleep may reflect age-related changes (e.g. older animals often sleep more), rather than grief as such.

What’s the point of all this? Ideally it would be helpful to understand how best to manage death in a multi-animal household. For example, are behaviour changes less pronounced in animals that have viewed the body of a deceased household member? Is there something veterinarians can alter in our practice to reduce grief in animals? Is there an easier way to distinguish grief or mourning from signs of illness?

You can read the full study here.

Reference

Walker JK, Warah NK & Phillips CJC (2016) Owners’perceptions of their animals behavioural response to the loss of an animalcompanion. Animals 6,68;doi:10.3390/ani6110068

What is palliative care for pets? Interview with Dr Jackie Campbell

Photographer: Amie Forbes Photography. 

What is palliative care? Dr Jackie Campbell is a veterinarian who has devoted her career to this relatively new area in veterinary practice. She graduated from the University of Queensland in 2006, and after nine years in practice opened Sunset Vets to focus on palliative care (also known as hospice).

She is a recent UQ Distinguished YoungAlumni Recipient, a TED speaker, 
and founder of Pets in the Park in Brisbane (it launched in February this year, serving pet owners who are homeless or at risk of homelessness). She holds a Diploma in Canine Myotherapy and is one of the inaugural intake for the Animal Hospice and Palliative Care Certification Program (USA). Jackie took some time to answer our questions.

How do you describe your day job?

Palliative Care Veterinarian.

How did you become interested in palliative care?

Looking back, I think the ideals of palliative care were always something that resonated with me as a clinician, it’s just there wasn’t really an official title for it within the veterinary industry. I’ve always had an interest in pain management and in particular, in the chronic and maladaptive pain we see with so many of our osteoarthritis patients. I also struggled with watching how some of the difficult conversations around end-of-life care played out in the clinic. Whilst hospitals are absolutely the place to be when you have treatable disease, what happens when it is beyond our capacity to cure? It means a shift in the goal posts, where our primary focus becomes comfort instead of the illness itself and I find a lot of clients can find themselves quite lost when this happens. We’re there to remind them of what’s important both medically and emotionally and help ensure their pet isn’t suffering while families are struggling to find their feet.     

Photographer: Amie Forbes Photography.

It’s a term we hear a lot, but what is palliative care when it comes to animals?

Palliative care refers to the ideals of ensuring patient comfort, providing access to individualised age-appropriate health care and supporting families through the difficulties of end-of-life decision making. In our case, this is something we look to do with families at home but clinics can start to implement palliative care plans as well. It’s as much about looking after the family as it is about the pet because ultimately, families that are better prepared emotionally, make better decisions for their pets.

Why is palliative care important?

So many reasons – our pets are living so much longer, in most part due to better preventative care. I worry though, that this can sometimes mean we have a higher number of pets with more chronic illness and disease and I think we have a huge obligation to help clearly explain to clients what their pets are going through. One of the things which palliative care vets get really good at is ‘humanising’ the disease process such that we can readily explain what a pet is likely to be feeling. It’s so common for owners of cats with kidney failure to feel like their cat is comfortable because it’s sleeping well. When we extrapolate from what human patients experience, it’s likely these cats are sleeping a lot because they have horrible ketotic headaches or overwhelming lethargy due to their anaemia, neither of which sound fun to me. For a lot of owners, if we are able to gently explain this to them, we find they choose differently about their pet’s care than they would otherwise have done.

It’s also incredibly important for us to do better at supporting the families who are doing all the caring and I think this is something that can get missed in the business of general practice. When we suspect time is limited it’s crucially important that people enjoy the time they have left with their pets and we will sometimes actively remind them to stop and take a breath. It can be easy to get so caught up in the illness and the medications that we miss the important stuff. We also know that better prepared clients not only recover quicker from the loss of a pet but have less anticipatory grief.

Photographer: Amie Forbes Photography.

What principles do you consider when developing a treatment plan for a veterinary patient at the end of their life?

A care plan has three basic components; medical, nursing and client care. As vets, our tendency is to get most excited about the medical plan but the reality is that in so many cases the nursing and the client care have even more influence on the patient’s day to day quality of life. The aim of a palliative care vet is to try and balance these three elements and we are often working very closely with primary care vets to ensure the client is understanding everything and engaged in decisions about the pet’s care.   

It has been said that veterinarians lose their patients five times at the rate of doctors, and this is one factor behind compassion fatigue. How do you cope in a role with so many patients approaching the end of their life?

Interestingly, I feel less compassion fatigue with the work I do now than I did when I was in general practice. I think a huge part of this is that our clients are typically very dedicated and so we are able to really advocate for what is best for our patients. We are working with families who are quality of life focused. If we are unable to satisfactorily control a patient’s symptoms and quality of life is reducing, then we spend a lot of time counselling owners about their options and helping them plan for a peaceful euthanasia. The more empowered I can make my clients the better and my hope is that starting a conversation about palliative care will actually reduce the number of ‘emergency’ euthanasia’s. The mad rush to the clinic with a crashing animal is stressful for everyone and something we work so hard with families to avoid.  

Do you find that clients seek you out?

Absolutely - although we are also seeing more and more referrals from primary care veterinarians and I think this is to do with the fact that vets are understanding that some of these conversations are better had outside the hospital walls. The clinic can be a stressful environment and I commonly hear that clients have elected to change vet clinics after the loss of a pet because they can’t face going back into a building associated with their grief. Working with a palliative care team can definitely help mitigate some of these issues and preserve the vet-client relationship in the long term.       

Why do you think palliative care of animals isn’t something veterinarians commonly offer?

I spent nine years in general practice before moving into palliative care full time and I suspect the short answer to that question is time and knowledge. This kind of care takes a lot of time and energy. Our vets are typically only seeing 3 or 4 patients a day and for most clinics this just isn’t feasible. That said, some of the ideals of palliative care can definitely be integrated into the clinic environment and we are already working with some of the more progressive clinics in our area to rethink their approach to end-of-life care.

What non-human(s) do you share your life with and how did you meet?

My life right now revolves completely around one very special cat called Jemima. We met when I was vet nursing at a clinic in my second year of Uni and as I was soon after to find out, she is the quintessential only child. Her monumental hissy fits at the prospect of another animal in her house is the main reason why I am not guilty of rescuing half the animal kingdom like so many others I know.

Any advice you’d like to share with veterinarians and future veterinarians?

Don’t see death itself as a failure of care. If we can influence the how and the why in which our patients pass, this is where you will make the most difference.

Thank you Jackie. You can read more about Jackie on her website, or follow her on facebook and instagram.

Hug your dogs every day

According to Phil, its Hug Your Hound Day every day.  Everytime I turn around he manages to be in someone's arms sneaking a smooch.

Apparently I forgot to observe the 2015 International HugYour Hound Day.

It seems there are more themed days of the year than there are days – although this is a worthy one. (It is also worth noting here that - like people - not every single dog enjoys being hugged, so its not a day to observe if you live with one of these).

The worst thing about dogs is our tendency to outlive them. On this note we have some sad news but a beautiful tribute to Peanut, from one of our favourite cartoonists, First Dog on the Moon.

Peanut, the beloved middle-sized whippet cross, was euthanased due to terminal cancer.

First Dog broke the news of the diagnosis on June 24, which you can read here.

Four months later, it was time to say goodbye. This is one of the most lovely accounts of the life of a dog. The sudden cold nose on the back of the knee. With simple words and pictures, First Dog sums up our bond with canines here.

It’s a moving reminder that they’re not with us forever, but a celebration of a life loved fully. 

Interview with Pet Grief Counsellor Karen Jaques

Karen Jaques and kitten Mia.

Karen Jaques was so devastated by the loss of her companions that her career path changed. She's now helping others cope with the loss of companion animals.

What’s your day job?

I work as a National Sales Manager for Splash Magazine, the leading trade magazine for pools and spas, not sexy at all.  The position involves coordinating and selling of advertising space in the magazine and exhibitions at the trade shows here in Australia and overseas.

I am a registered Counsellor and 2 years ago have also started my own practice “Paws for Reflection”.  This enables me to concentrate on the area of pet bereavement and support for those in need during their time of crisis.

I am also an on-line counsellor with APLB (Association of Pet Loss and Bereavement in USA) and conduct weekly on-line counselling sessions.

Not my day job but my weekend job I also volunteer with the Palliative Care Unit at Concord Hospital and in this role I provide one-on-one support to a terminally ill patients and assist with their emotional and physical needs.

How did you become involved in grief counselling?

Having lost my dog Lucy four years ago the grief I encountered was something I had never experienced before.  Lucy was part of my life for 17 years and although I had experienced the loss of close family and friends I found I was overwhelmed with grief.  I searched for support online and could not find a counsellor specialising in this particular field and the grief counsellors I encountered did not fully understand the effect of pet loss and grief.  I was lucky to have an incredibly supportive work-place; this was paramount in helping me move forward with my loss.

What sort of training did you do to become a grief counsellor?

After some soul searching I found that life’s path was leading me in a different direction.  I felt the need to assist others in a similar situation and I could not provide professional support unless I was suitably trained.  I enrolled in the Diploma of Counselling course which I completed with a Major in Grief Counselling.

I needed to locate training specific to pet loss and found the Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement in the USA (APLB) was the only course available. I did an intensive training course under the supervision of Dr.Wallace Sife PhD and upon completion and certification I was offered an internship, this led to my current role as Assistant Chat Room Host which I love.

How significant is the grief people feel when losing a companion animal?

Beside my personal experience there have been many clients that defined their grief and I quote, “I have lost my parents and loved ones but when I lost my pet the grief I have suffered is 10 times greater”. Additionally they ask “is that really bad of me” as they have experienced a great deal of guilt associated with these feelings.

It is a time that many people feel isolated; they feel there is no empathy. No-one is walking in their shoes, no-one understands, even loved ones. Their grief affects everything they do and they are consumed with unnecessary guilt and remorse if euthanasia is involved.  A rollercoaster ride of emotion follows; it affects their workplace and ability to manage day to day functioning. Employers need to be aware that this loss for some people is like losing a family member and in some cases more significant, they need to support their employees under such circumstances.

Losing a companion animal is not necessarily through death.  For an elderly person moving into an aged care facility having to surrender their pet can be devastating. Other variables of loss include divorce, stolen companion animal, lost pet or negligence resulting in death. The not knowing where and how your companion animal is can be haunting and can result in sleep deprivation, anxiety attacks and depression.  All can be attributed to grief and loss. There are instances in what is commonly referred to as complicated grief, this is not so easy to manage or recover from without help.

How does grief counselling help people?

It helps to validate feelings in other words to get the support from someone who just “gets” their world. To have support from someone who has experienced their pain and can empathise is a step towards healing and resolution. It helps make sense of the myriad of emotions they are feeling.  By understanding such feelings they can better manage their grief and move towards resolution and healing.

Billy and Mia caught sharing a bed.

Can you introduce your non-human companions?

I have a rescue cattle dog, 6 years old, called Billy. She is female, I often laugh at people’s reaction as they initially think she’s a boy. She is named after my grandfather Billy, who was very kind and loving. I was originally trying to adopt one of her pups but was talked out of it by the Rescue, I went to meet Billy instead and the rest is history. She was severely abused and is very introverted.  To help her healing (excuse the pun) I decided to add to our family.  Lucy had grown up and shared her life with Sally the cat who was her constant companion. My new addition to the family is Mia the cat.  She is a rescue cat and was 8 weeks old when adopted.  She has bonded well with Billy and is really making her come out of her shell.  I believe Billy thinks Mia is one of her pups.

What could we do to make the world better for non-human animals?

Treat every animal, be it from a farm animal to a companion animal, with the respect and dignity they deserve.

Karen's kitty Mia.

Any advice you’d like to share with veterinarians and future veterinarians?

Have a healthy practice which is in tune with the emotional and ethical side your business.  This is paramount, long gone are the days of just visiting a vet and walking away with no support or action plans.

A healthy practice offers a holistic approach to your services. This covers everything from the needs of the clients to needs of your staff. Offer a caring supportive environment.  An example of this is meeting the needs of bereaving clients, offer support including playing an advocacy role. Recommending or providing information on where to get support including Pet loss groups, Counsellors, Rescue shelters, crematoriums etc.  Also general information and guidance at a time when clients may need someone to take control under such dire circumstances.

Key advice to staff is that they include “self-care” in their daily practice and look after themselves and their workers through what I call “taking care of the carers”.  Most veterinary clinics do not have the luxury of a big “team” environment.  The majority are small practices that are self-managed and run.  They often do not have the resources to deal with burnout. Self-care is paramount in any medical or care provider role.

Self-care takes the form of exactly that, sitting down with your staff and debriefing after a bad day, talking and sharing the challenges they face or faced and offering support and strategies on how to deal with such challenges. In larger practices this might take the form of specific carer support tactics. Independent resources may be required to teach staff on how to manage “self-care” and prevent burnout.  This would assist with preventing high levels of staff turnover and lack of stability in the workplace.

Thanks Karen. You can visit Karen’s blog at www.paws4reflection.com.au

or follow her on Instagram PAWS4REFLECTION

Mourning animals: headstones

Simple, tiny, and a very good place for other reptiles to bask: Sutcliffe's headstone.

I recently lost a foster bearded dragon Sutcliffe to metabolic bone disease. He was such a magnificent creature and I wanted to acknowledge his brief but spectacular existence. Mourning animals is a personal thing. Its been called "disenfranchised grief" because many people feel like they can't mourn the loss publicly. Studies suggest that this sort of disenfranchised grief occurs on cases of perinatal loss, and up to half of animal owners feel that grief is not really accepted by society. And I admit, grief is not an easy subject to discuss, particularly with people who aren't animal lovers - probably for fear of judgement. But that is exactly why I think it needs to be discussed.

I've always relied on photographs to remember my pets, but a friend suggested that I order a headstone. To be honest I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I did it, and it now sits in the garden. I walked outside the other day and found a skink sunbathing on the stone, which was perfect [well, almost perfect: I didn't have a camera to capture the moment].

In the process of ordering Sutcliffe’s stone I got chatting with the team from TalkingStones who agreed to answer a few questions about what they actually do.

What do you do?

Talking Stones are stone engravers.  Talking Stones was “born” when the owners (James and Samantha Rae) lost their own dog, Lady, and they struggled to find a fitting, elegant tribute that didn’t make their garden look like a cemetery.

We create a range of high quality, personalised products which include people memorials, house name plaques, wedding bonbonerie and customised, one-off jobs, as well as our core range of pet memorials.  Everything we make is lovingly hand-engraved on the Central Coast of NSW and shipped Australia-wide (and sometimes even further afield).  We work with a range of materials including tumbled riverstones, granite, sandstone, clay pavers, glass and stainless steel.  

What species have you been asked to make memorials for?

The majority of our pet memorials are for dogs, cats, horses and rabbits.  But we’ve also created tributes for guinea-pigs, mice, budgies, cockatiels, bearded dragons, other lizards, snakes, and a duck!

What is the largest stone you have made for a pet?

A couple of years ago we were involved in a charity project “Following the Legend ofArcher” where Australian Olympian Ed Fernon rode his horse over 1100 kms from Braidwood, NSW to Melbourne (following the alleged route that Archer  took before going on to win the inaugural Melbourne Cup race in 1861). 

We created a stunning sandstone marker (measuring around 45x35x25cm and weighing approximately 50kgs!).  As well as traditional engraving, we also incorporated some very detailed custom engraving on recessed stainless steel plaques.  This was placed at the beginning of the trek, forever memorialising the Legend of Archer.

We are also involved with creating an ongoing memorial for service animals in the police service and armed forces for the Queensland Government.

What is the smallest?

Most of our business is done through our website or through our network of vet clinics and pet stores, but one day last year a lady knocked at the door of our workshop with two children in tow.  The daughter’s pet guinea pig has just died and she was very upset.  She wanted something that she could carry in her pocket or school bag.  We ended up engraving a tiny tumbled riverstone about 4cm in diameter, that the girl hand-picked from our collection.

Have you had any unusual requests?

We pride ourselves on being able to create exactly what our customers have in mind, and have replicated logos and even hand-drawings and hand-writing into stone.  Our most recent unusual job was a granite paw-shaped plaque engraved with the Japanese symbol for the pet’s name “Zen”. 

Does the extent of grief people feel for their pets ever surprise you?

In short, no!  We are pet lovers ourselves and have huge empathy for our customers – we understand what a gaping hole the death of a beloved family member can leave.  We often deal with customers who are very traumatised, and whilst we are always professional and efficient, it’s sometimes hard for us not to get upset ourselves!  Interestingly it’s the people with the toughest exterior that really get upset. For example builders and trades people can be devastated when their four legged workmate passes away. 

Thank you for your time, guys. Its really interesting to hear another perspective on mourning animals. I am currently working on a project about grief and pets at the moment, but vets encounter grief and loss regularly. I'm really interested to learn how others mourn their pets.

RIP Sutcliffe, the baby bearded dragon

He was tinier than my favourite highlighters...

It’s been a tough week here at SAT HQ…despite rallying in his last days our little foster-bearded dragon, Sutcliffe, passed away on Monday. He was medicated twice a day, provided with UV lights, consciously not over-handled, provided with heat and – where possible – bathed in natural sunshine, but in the last 48 hours signs of metabolic bone disease returned with a vengeance. He became soft and doughy, lost his ability to grip, and despite injections of calcium and subcutaneous fluids, failed to make it. His absence hurts all the more because his feeding and medication regime topped and tailed my day.

Sutcliffe enjoys a spot of sunshine in the garden. This picture was taken approximately 24 hours before he passed away. I'm really the sun made an effort to come out on Sunday! I just hope all the other reptiles in Sydney are getting the warmth they need.

In reflecting on this exacerbation of disease, I wonder if the total lack of natural sunshine (due to some pretty bad Sydney weather) for about five days preceeding his death tipped him over the edge? He still had artificial UV light, but it isn’t the same. And he really did come alive when he could spend time outdoors. Or was he always on the back foot after a shaky start in life? Did I feed him right? Did he get the exact doses of calcium he needed?

It is hard to know. He never missed a dose of medication, nor a meal. His enclosure was pristine and never over-heated. What is certain is that he was a magnificent creature of extraordinary beauty, and for only five grams he managed to teach me a lot about MBD. And gee didn’t he love the sunshine. 

Sutcliffe on my thumb.

Every time the sun pokes out from around the clouds I think of little Sutcliffe, sitting on his twigs, holding his chest up and soaking in the rays.

He has been buried at home in the garden, and I’ve ordered a little headstone which I will lay over the site when it arrives (it measures 8cm) (you can view the stones here - I've ordered a tumbled riverstone). I hope that one day I pop outside and find a little lizard or skink basking on that stone.