Loving Again After Loss: Opening Your Heart to Another Pet

After a beloved pet dies, the silence is deafening. Their absence is everywhere…in the food bowl you don’t put away, in the spot on the couch that stays empty, in the rhythm of your day that no longer includes them. And when someone gently asks, “Are you thinking about getting another?”, even when asked with kindness, can feel like a betrayal. As if your love was that easily transferable. As if your pet could ever be replaced.

For many of us, the thought of welcoming another pet stirs up guilt. Am I dishonoring their memory? Will it seem like I’ve moved on too quickly? What if I don’t feel the same connection? These questions are tender and human. Grief and love are so tightly interwoven that it’s hard to imagine making space for another when you’re still carrying so much pain.

But here’s something I often ask clients…and something I ask myself too:

If you were the one who had passed on, would you want your loved ones to stop loving?

Would you want them to close their hearts forever? Refuse new friendships? Never again feel the joy of a connection, just because you can't be replaced?

Or would you want them to live fully, to love again, to find laughter and light, even if it didn’t look the same as what they had with you?

I like to believe our pets want that for us too.

In 2024, I lost Smidge, my 8-year-old Boston Terrier, and Kissa, my beautiful 6-year-old pit bull, unexpectedly—just months apart. I was shattered. I found comfort in Doodle, Smidgey’s twin, and Smoke, our Cane Corso puppy, but the pain was profound.

Within a few months, I felt this quiet nudge. I started following my local animal shelter and rescues on social media. One day, a rescue posted a 3-year-old Boston Terrier who looked nearly identical to my first Boston, Lucy. That was my sign.

And so Cosmo came to live with us.

He’s a wild little Boston with no off switch—a tornado of joy and chaos, with a speckled belly and the most delightfully crooked teeth you’ve ever seen. He makes me laugh daily and, in some strange and wonderful way, he has helped me heal. I sometimes think Smidgey had a paw in it. That she sent him my way, laughing all the while: “Let’s see how you handle this one, Mom.”

As much as Cosmo has added to my life, I still experience pangs of sadness when I think of Smidge and Kissa. Getting another pet isn’t about replacing the one you lost. That love is yours forever. Instead, it’s about expanding your heart, honoring the love you had by giving it room to grow. There’s no right timeline. No one-size-fits-all answer. But when you’re ready, you’ll know. And maybe, just maybe, the one you lost will help guide you to who’s next.

Not as a replacement.

But as a continuation of the love that never really ends.

Left: Lucy, my first Boston. Right: Cosmo, our newest wild boy. Same markings, same sweet little face—just in a slightly chubbier package. The universe has a funny way of knowing what your heart needs.

If you’re struggling navigating the complicated emotions of pet grief…guilt, hesitation, longing, and everything in between, you don’t have to go through this alone. If you’d like support, or just someone who gets it, schedule a free 15-minute consultation to see if therapy might help you feel a little more steady on your feet.