60+ Pet Loss Grief Journal Prompts for Healing

When my dog died I was inconsolable. I kept waiting for the sound of his nails on the kitchen floor. And of course it never came. He was gone and I had to accept it.

But it hurt so much and I needed to find a way to cope with the loss. And so I looked to writing.

Not anything neat or organized. Just half sentences in a cheap notebook, usually late at night. And somehow getting it out of my head and onto the page made it a little more bearable.

If you’ve lost a pet and you’re struggling with then journaling can give that grief somewhere to go. You don’t need to be a writer. You don’t need the right words. You just need a page and a starting point, and that’s what the prompts here are for.

I’ve grouped them by where you might be in your grief. So there’s prompts for the early days through to the work of healing. Use the ones that fit you and ignore the ones that don’t.

Table of Contents

Why Journaling Helps When You’ve Lost a Pet

Researchers have found that the grief people feel after losing a pet is, on most clinical measures, almost indistinguishable from the grief of losing a human loved one. You get the same disrupted sleep, intrusive thoughts, a loss of appetite and so on.

Sadly the world doesn’t always treat the loss of a pet as a loss at all. At the least it isn’t equal.

Grief experts have a name for this. They call it disenfranchised grief, which is grief that isn’t openly acknowledged or socially supported.

Nobody gives you bereavement leave when your cat dies. There’s rarely a funeral.

Most of the time there isn’t anyone at work who thinks to say “I’m so sorry, take whatever time you need”. So you end up alone with and that can be hard.

This is where writing becomes helpful. Back in the 1980s a psychologist named James Pennebaker ran a now famous study showing that people who wrote about painful experiences for a short period of days ended up with better moods and fewer trips to the doctor than those who didn’t.

But you don’t need a study to tell you this. When you write something down that’s been troubling you it stops rattling around in your mind.

How to Use These Prompts

Don’t try to do them all. Go through the list, find one that speaks to you and start from there. One prompt is good for a single sitting.
There’s no right way to answer. A single sentence is good enough. A page of just your scrawling ng still counts. Trailing off halfway through because you started crying is fine.
Handwrite it if you can. A lot of people find that writing by hand connects them more deeply to what they’re feeling than typing does. But if a notes app on your phone is what you’ve got at midnight then use that.
Let it be messy. Spelling, grammar, whether it makes sense to anyone else, none of it matters.
Stop when you need to. If a prompt becomes too much just close the notebook. You can come back tomorrow. Or you never have to again if you don’t want to.

Some days you’ll write for half an hour. Some days you’ll open the notebook, write your pet’s name and close it again. That’s still journaling.

Journal Prompts for the First Days After Losing Your Pet

The early days probably the hardest. These prompts aren’t about making sense of anything yet. They’re just about getting the rawest feelings out and onto the page.

What does the house feel like without them right now?
What was the first moment today that reminded me they’re gone?
If I could say one thing to them this very second, what would it be?
What part of my daily routine hurts the most now that they’re not in it?
What do I keep expecting to happen out of habit, that isn’t going to happen anymore?
What am I most afraid of feeling if I let myself really feel it?
Who in my life actually understands this loss, and who doesn’t?
What do I need right now that I’m not letting myself ask for?
Write about the last day you had together, in as much or as little detail as you can bear.
What would I tell a friend who was feeling exactly what I’m feeling right now?

Prompts for Remembering Your Pet’s Life

Instead of only writing about the loss you’ll find at some point you start wanting to write about them. This is where journaling starts to feel more like a tribute to your pet.

How did we first meet? Tell the whole story of the day they came into my life.
What was the most ridiculous habit they had that nobody would believe unless they saw it?
What sound or movement did they make that I’d know anywhere?
Describe their personality as if I were introducing them to someone who never got to meet them.
What was our thing? The routine or game or spot that was just ours?
When were they at their happiest? What did that look like?
What’s a moment with them I hope I never forget?
What did they teach me, without ever meaning to teach me anything?
What did they look like when they were completely relaxed and content?
If they could talk for one minute, what do I think they’d say about the life we shared?

Writing these down does something important. Memories fade whether we want them to or not and the small details are the things that go first. Getting them onto the page means you’ll have a record of them and many years from now you’ll be so glad you did.

If you find yourself wanting use these memories for something more permanent you might turn some of them into a eulogy for your dog or a eulogy for your cat. A journal entry is often like the first draft of a proper tribute.

Prompts for the Guilt, Regret and Hard Feelings

So many of us feel guilt after losing a pet. We replay decisions we made, especially if you had to make the hardest one of all and choose the timing of their goodbye.

Guilt after losing a pet is one of the most normal things in the world and it is almost never deserved. These prompts will hopefully help with that guilt.

What am I blaming myself for, and if my best friend said the same thing about themselves, would I agree with them?
What decision do I keep replaying? What did I actually know at the time I made it?
If they could reassure me about one thing right now, what would I need them to say?
What would I want them to know about how much I agonized over doing right by them?
What’s the story I’m telling myself about their death, and is it fair to me?
What did I get right in caring for them, even in the hardest moments?
What do I need to forgive myself for, so I can carry the love instead of the guilt?
Is there anger mixed in here too, at a vet, at the illness, at the unfairness of it? Where does that anger want to go?

If you made the decision to let them go peacefully don’t beat yourself up. That choice, awful as it feels, is very often the last and greatest act of love we give an animal.

Prompts for the Everyday Missing

What time of day do I miss them most, and what usually happened at that time?
What do I still catch myself doing out of habit, like reaching for the leash or leaving a door open?
What’s a completely ordinary thing that unexpectedly made me cry this week?
What’s the hardest empty space in the house? The bed, the window, the spot by the food bowl?
What would we be doing right now if they were still here?
What smell, sound or object still brings them straight back to me?
How has my daily rhythm changed, and how do I feel about those changes?
What do I wish other people understood about how much this still hurts?

Prompts for Writing a Letter to Your Pet

Of all the journaling I did after losing my dog writing him a letter was the one that helped the most.

You can write one letter or a whole series of them. These are some ways to start:

Dear _____, here’s everything I never got to say to you…
Dear _____, this is what my life looks like now, and this is how much you’re missed…
Dear _____, thank you for _____. I don’t think I ever told you properly.
Dear _____, I’m sorry for _____, and I hope you always knew how much I loved you anyway.
Dear _____, here’s what I want you to know about the day you left…
Dear _____, here are all the things I promise to remember about you…
Dear _____, if you can hear me somehow, this is what I’d want you to know…

If you want to see what one of these might look like all the way through, below is a letter I wrote as an example. Yours won’t sound like this and it shouldn’t. This is just to show you it’s okay to write something like this.

Dear ______,

I keep starting this letter and stopping because there’s too much and not enough all at once.

You were fourteen when you left and I still wasn’t ready. I don’t think I ever would have been. That’s the thing nobody tells you, that no amount of time feels like enough when it’s them.

I want you to know the house is too quiet. I still leave the kitchen light on a little longer than I need to, because that was your spot, curled up by the warm oven while I cooked. I catch myself talking to that empty patch of floor.

Thank you for every single walk, even the ones in the rain when I grumbled. Thank you for waiting by the door. Thank you for knowing, somehow, on my worst days, to press yourself right up against me and just stay.

I’m sorry for the times I was distracted. For the walks I cut short. If I’d known how little time we had I’d have let you sniff every single lamppost for as long as you wanted.

You were the best of them, Biscuit. You made me softer and kinder and more patient than I ever was before you. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the person you always looked at me like I already was.

Rest now, sweet boy. I’ll carry you everywhere.

All my love, always,
Sally

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Prompts for Healing and Carrying the Love Forward

The word healing can be misleading because it can sound like getting over it and we don’t get over the ones we love. What happens is over time the grief and the love change shape.

What’s one small thing that felt a tiny bit lighter this week?
How have I changed as a person because I got to love them?
What’s a way I could honor them that would feel meaningful to me?
What did loving them teach me about how I want to love, full stop?
What am I ready to let go of, and what will I hold onto forever?
If they could see me right now, what would they be proud of?
What does carrying them with me look like, going forward?
What’s one thing I want to do in their memory, big or small?

You might also find that words other people have written help you find your own. Reading through pet loss poems, loss of dog quotes or loss of cat quotes can be a lovely thing to make a part of your journaling session.

Prompts for Deciding Whether to Get Another Pet

The question of another pet will probably make you feel guilt and hope and fear, sometimes all at the same time. Journaling can help you sort out what you’re really feeling from what you think you’re supposed to feel.

Why am I thinking about another pet right now? What am I really hoping for?
What part of me is afraid to love an animal again, and what is that fear trying to protect?
What part of me is afraid to never love an animal again?
Would a new pet feel like replacing them, or like honoring what they taught me about loving an animal?
What would I want to do the same, and what differently, knowing what I know now?
If I picture my life a year from now with a new pet, and then without, how does each one feel in my body?
Is there a part of me that would feel disloyal, and what would my lost pet actually want for me?

This is always hard and you shouldn’t feel rushed or put off. Some people open their home again within weeks and some never do. Writing it out just helps you understand a bit better what you want.

Journal Prompts for Children Grieving a Pet

For a lot of kids a pet is their first real experience of death. This means they feel it hard even when they can’t put it into words. Journaling, or drawing, or a mix of both, can give a child a safe way to let those big feelings out.

Draw a picture of your favorite thing you ever did with them.
What was the funniest thing they ever did?
What did they feel like to cuddle?
If you could send them a message, what would you say?
What made them happy? What made you happy about them?
What do you want to always remember about them?
What’s something you want to tell them thank you for?

A Simple Journaling Routine You Can Stick To

If the idea of journaling feels like one more thing you don’t have the energy for that’s understandable. Grief is exhausting. This is a version that is very short and asks next to nothing of you:

Pick a time. Same time each day helps it stick, even if it’s just before bed. Even three minutes is worth it.
Keep the notebook where you’ll see it. On the nightstand, by the kettle, wherever you naturally pause and take a moment.
Start with one prompt. Just one. Open to a fresh page, write it at the top and see what comes.
Don’t reread and don’t judge yourself. This isn’t for anyone but you and it doesn’t need to be anything special or good.
Let some days be blank. Missing a day or a week is fine. The notebook will be there when you’re ready.