Last night I finished reading a great book about an ‘energetic’ dog and its journalist owner: Marley and Me.
It had me in tears of grief at the end—not because of any cataclysmic event in the story, but because of the memories it evoked. I read somewhere recently that we are never really given time or permission to grieve for a beloved pet; there’s always that “Oh, you can get always a new dog/cat/whatever.” But the grief is real, and it lasts for a long time.
In this case I was grieving for my childhood boxer—Cassie—who I grew up with and who had to be put down the afternoon of my Year 12 Ball (Senior Prom for the Americans). I sure didn’t enjoy that night, but I held in my grief as it wouldn’t have been cool to be in tears the whole night.
And I was grieving for Anouschka, my beloved cat for some 17 years, who I held in my arms when she was put to sleep in 1995.
The grief never goes. You think it has, then you read a book like this, and it comes welling back up.
Update (19 February 2008): I just read that this great book is being made into a movie, starring Owen Wilson.
Rhonda Bracey: At Random 
Mum keeps trying to “prepare” me for Cally’s death which I find a bit annoying. I would rather focus on her life and ensure it is as comfortable for as long as possible.