A woman in Oklahoma – a farmer’s wife, as she called herself – e-mailed me that her 12-year-old Beagle had to be put down last week, and she said it “hit me like a hammer.” It was all the more difficult, she said, because her best friend chuckled when she said how badly she felt. “It’s just a dog,” her friend told her, “you need to get over it.”

Animal grieving is complex, and perspective is difficult. In a world where dogs and children are getting mixed up, it’s hard to get a bearing on grieving for animal sometimes. The mourning a dog or cat or horse is very real, very painful and often quite deep. It does not to be taken seriously. I know many enlightened bosses who have given employees some time off to deal with the loss of a dog or cat. They need it. They are in great pain.

Often, people feel foolish feeling so much grief for an animal. They hide it, or are afraid to show it, or tell themselves “It’s Just A Dog” and they need to move on. I’ve done this myself. But my views on that have changed quite a bit. Grief needs to be acknowledged. One of the nice things about the Net is that it puts grief-stricken people in touch with one another and they don’t feel so alone, or silly.

I do think we need to be careful not to morn animals in quite the same way we mourn children or humans. For many reasons, chiefly because the two species are very different. I gave Orson a memorial service in the pasture, acknowledging the many things he had done for me, and also owning up to the grief I felt at losing him and the guilt for putting him down. But I was quite alone with it. I felt it somewhat silly to go into mourning for a dog, even one I loved so much. I see the importance of acknowledging grief, and sharing it with people. It is very real, and to hide it is to prolong and deepen it, I think. I am exploring the healing powers of some rituals – memorial services, online grieving forums, taking time off. Important.

Yes, it’s just a dog. That does not make the pain go away.