Using Humor to Cope with Pet Loss
When my cat Sophie was dying in 2020, I started a list. When Bucky followed in 2023, I started another.
Last year, my sweet Nina died but before he did, once again I started a third list. Today, it still hurts to talk about him. He was my Babies. An unbearable loss.
They weren’t to-do lists or medical logs (though believe me, I had plenty of those too). These were lists of joy: things they loved, quirks that made them them, weird habits, nicknames, and all the petty chaos they created on a daily basis. Call them journals, or diaries, or whatever you want.
Yes, they all died from kidney disease. Sophie at 11, Bucky at 14, Nina was 15. The lists helped me track more than just their decline. They helped me notice when the joy in their lives started fading. And eventually, as more things were crossed off and fewer moments of joy showed up, they helped me decide when it was time to say goodbye.
But what I didn’t expect? Those lists became the most comforting part of grieving.
Creating a Pet Memory List: A Surprisingly Healing Practice
I wrote down their favorite snacks, their ridiculous demands, and the 1,000 nicknames they collected over the years.
Here are some that still make me laugh:
Sophie (aka Rubies, Boobies, Black Lightning, Demon Child):
Waited for me to open windows just so she could body-slam the sill to be first in the breeze.
Had a “feed me now” spot in the kitchen and a different “figure it out and feed me” spot for when she felt subtle.
Led me to the patio door with eyes atop her head to make sure I followed.
Bit and kicked her toys like she owed them money.
Ate a praying mantis. And a grasshopper. And possibly a lizard named Marvin.
Demanded affection in the tub. (Yes, the tub. While dry. With eye contact.)
Her names? Oh, just Boobies, Miss Girl, Demon Chile, Ham & Cheese, Maenad, and Mint Julip. Naturally.
Bucky (aka Mr. Truth, Josepher, Himson, Neighbor Boy, and his Native American name, “Him Tie Roo”):
Bowled down the hallway at top speed while I jumped out to scare him—(he knew I was hiding & couldn’t wait to blaze past).
Wriggled across the room on his side, like a snake, even though I’d tell him to “use your legs!”
Loved the view of us from various containers (laundry basket, Amazon box, ramen container).
Drank only sink water, and even post-shower water oblivious to his soaking wet paws.
Played with lemongrass like it was catnip sent from the gods and was super stealth about it if I was in the backyard with him.
Names? Buddy, Mr. Who, Fat Son, Himson, Josepher, Mr. Nature, Pal, Mr. Love and 43 others.
Nina (aka Babies, Sissy, Crispy, Sizzles)
Unable to revisit my list. Though it’s been a year. I’m so very sorry. I cannot yet bring myself to show you Nina’s joys. The pain is too raw.
Writing these down (while they’re alive) wasn’t just therapeutic, it was hilarious. They reminded me that my grief wasn’t just sadness. It was absurdity, love, frustration, and deeply specific memories no sympathy card ever captures.
Funny Cat Memories That Still Make Me Cry (and Laugh)
Losing a pet to kidney disease—or any illness—is brutal. You track their poop like a stock market ticker. You hide pills into treats with all the delicacy of a Michelin chef. You start prompting AI: “how to know when it’s time” at 2:00 a.m. for the sixth night in a row.
But between the nausea logs and hydration charts, there’s room for something else: joy.
All my cats were mischievous to the point of devilry. Remembering their mischief is the stuff that make me ugly-cry.
That’s what humor does. It sneaks into the sadness and reminds you that your pet wasn’t just sweet, they were deeply unique. They were yours.
How to Start Your Own List
If you're grieving a pet right now, and most especially if you know the time is coming, make your own list.
Start with:
Nicknames
Favorite foods (and the ones that offended them)
Signature moves (like Boobies’ deathlock stare or Bucky’s sidewinder claws or Babies’ boxen time)
The one truly absurd thing they did that made you laugh so hard you forgot the vet bill for five minutes
You’ll know the end is near when those things stop happening. But you’ll also have a roadmap for remembering them in full color. In all their chaotic, hilarious, gross, tender, and uniquely loved moments.
Pet Loss is Heartbreaking; and a Time to be Thankful
C.S. Lewis famously wrote, "For the greater the love, the greater the grief".
Shelby Forsythia wrote, "Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go".
My grief is the kind that comes with pages of joy I carefully journaled. I feel all the moments come back to life. When 5 litter boxes were placed throughout the house, 3am sink drinks, 47 names for one animal, and “Boobie’s chicken” on my groceries app that I can’t bear to delete.
Humor won’t erase your loss. But it will give it shape. It turns pain into stories. Stories into laughter. And laughter into love that doesn’t leave, even when those creatures do.
