COMMUNITY · FROM JULIA · GRIEF · PEPPER · PET LOSS

7 Things I’ve Learned From Losing My Dog

Pepper looking up from her bed beside a person wearing a blue jumper.

It’s been three months since my greyhound Pepper passed away in July. I’ve been thinking about what I expected grief to feel like, and what it has actually been like to live with it.

Some things have been easier than I imagined. Others have left an emptiness I’m still learning to understand. There have also been things I didn’t expect at all, like finding creativity through grief and discovering that the community we belonged to is still here for me.

I shared these thoughts in a reel, and wanted to give them a little more space here. These are seven things I’ve learned from losing my dog, from my own experience of loving and grieving Pepper.

1. Grief looks different for every person and every pet

My grief has looked very different to my partner’s, even though we both lost Pepper.

One small example is that my sad days aren’t always his sad days. I might be having a really difficult day while he’s feeling okay. Then another day, he might be feeling her absence more deeply while I’m getting on with things. We’re grieving the same dog, but we aren’t always in the same place at the same time.

It has also felt different to losing our cat about ten years ago. That loss was sudden, and I was ten years younger. The circumstances were different, and so was I.

I’m realising how much all of that matters. The pet, the relationship, how they passed, and who we are at that point in our lives. I can’t use one experience as a guide for exactly how another will feel.

Pepper resting her front paws on a white sofa cushion.

2. I could return to everyday life sooner than I expected

Before Pepper passed, I thought going back to normal life would be incredibly difficult. I imagined that even getting ready in the morning and going about my usual routine would be extremely painful.

But, surprisingly, I was able to get back into the groove of everyday things sooner than I thought.

That was something I hadn’t expected from myself. I had imagined what life without her would look like, but actually living it was different. There were ordinary things I could still do, even while I was grieving.

Being able to go about my day and missing Pepper have existed together. That has been one of the things I’ve had to make sense of.

Pepper standing on a paved path in a green jumper.

3. There is still an emptiness

Even though I can continue with everyday life, there is an emptiness in my heart.

Sometimes it feels like a loss of purpose. Sometimes it feels like being more isolated or lonely. It isn’t always a sad day in an obvious way, but the feeling that she’s missing is still there.

For me, returning to my routine hasn’t meant returning to exactly how life felt before. I can be doing the things I normally do and still feel the space Pepper has left.

I’m learning that both can be true. I can be getting on with life, and I can still be figuring out what life without her feels like.

Pepper curled up in a fluffy pale pink bed.

4. She’s still here in many ways

I named my business, Pepper Grey, after Pepper. I also shared her life on Instagram, including the days, months and years of her senior greyhound life.

It has been an incredible experience to see how she continues to live on through those stories and through the brand, even though she’s no longer here physically.

There are pieces of her in the postcard I drew, in the things I create and in the stories I write. I’m still talking about her. I’m still sharing what she means to me.

The essence of her is still here, and that’s something I really didn’t expect to feel in this way. Pepper Grey has become her legacy, and creating through it has become one way I carry her with me.

Pepper in profile beside plants outdoors.

5. You don’t stop belonging to the community

I wondered how I would still belong in the greyhound, sighthound or dog community once Pepper was gone.

So much of my connection to that community had been through her. Without her by my side, I wasn’t sure what my place would look like.

To my surprise, losing her was when I needed that community most. There was so much love and support for me, including from people who understood what it meant to lose a dog.

I’ve come to realise that our experience with our dogs is part of what connects us. I was part of that community too. The relationship I had with Pepper, and everything we shared, didn’t disappear when she passed.

If you’re wondering where you belong after losing your dog, I hope hearing this helps. I had that worry too, and I found that people were still there.

Pepper between two people kissing her cheeks.

6. Grief turned into creativity for me

This was a real surprise. I didn’t know how to cope with the grief, and I found myself writing, painting, drawing and creating content.

Those things became ways to express what I was feeling. Through them, I found moments of peace and support.

Sometimes that expression has become something I can share, like the postcard I drew of Pepper or a story on Instagram. It still fascinates me that something so personal can become a way to connect with someone else.

I’m discovering this creative part of myself and learning how to work with it. I don’t know exactly where it will take me, but I want to keep giving it space.

Pepper resting behind a red cushion.

7. When you share your grief, people grieve with you

When I started sharing my grief, I was doing it for myself, as a way to express how I felt. I didn’t expect it to help other people grieve too.

Some people had a dog reaching their final years. Others were caring for a sick dog and recognised something of their own experience in mine. Some had already lost a dog, a cat or someone they loved, and sharing my grief brought them back to their own.

That was something I hadn’t anticipated: that talking about Pepper could give someone else room to remember and feel their loss again.

Those have been beautiful moments of connection. We might have different stories, but for a moment, we can understand something about each other. I feel a little less alone, and I hope they do too.

A close-up of Pepper’s face and nose.

Still learning, three months on

I’m still finding my way through life without Pepper. These reflections are simply what I’ve noticed so far, and I know my experience may keep changing.

If you’ve lost a dog, or you’re caring for one in their final years, I hope something here resonates with you. You’re welcome to share your experience with me on Instagram or email me at hello@peppergrey.com.au.

You can also watch the original reel here.

And please go hug your dog for me. 💛

Julia

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