Through my years of working a dog portrait artist, I’ve had the privilege of capturing the unique personalities of countless beloved dogs through my drawings. I’ve also shared in the quiet understanding of loss with many clients, and created many special dog portraits in memory of companions no longer with us. Recently I found myself navigated the deep sorrow of losing my own dear Labrador Charlie, and so I wanted to share my journey, hoping it resonates with others currently experiencing this intense heartbreak. Years ago, I thought I understood the grief of losing a dog when my childhood Labrador Dylan passed away. But when my beautiful Charlie Bear left us just before his 10th birthday, that old wound reopened alongside a fresh one, reminding me just how difficult the loss of a much-loved canine companion can be. I’m sharing my journey here, hoping it might bring some comfort to others walking this difficult path.
Recognizing When It Is Time To Say Goodbye
Charlie had been my shadow for nearly a decade. He was with us on our wedding day and saw us through three house moves. He was the reason I started drawing again and created my first pet portrait. And then he was the reason I decided to turn that into a career and become a professional pet portrait artist. He kept me company lying at my feet through literally every pet portrait I drew. As the years went on, although his spirit remained bright, his body gradually betrayed him. Just after his 9th birthday we found out he had hip dysplasia which had led to severe arthritis in both his hips and spine. We tried everything—hydrotherapy sessions, multiple pain medications, breaking up his walks into several smaller ones, using a ramp to get him in and out the car. We watched him fight bravely through the pain and at many times on his good days, he would be bounding around like a lunatic, especially if he came across his ‘girlfriend’ Bramble on a walk!
The decision to say goodbye came when his legs finally gave out completely. Despite all our efforts and his incredible determination, he could no longer stand up on his own. Our trusted vet had been monitoring his decline, and we’d established clear markers for quality of life: Could he move without extreme pain? Was he able to enjoy simple pleasures? Was there more discomfort than joy in his days? When Charlie could no longer rise, I knew in my heart it wasn’t fair to let him suffer any longer. I looked into his eyes and could see he’d had enough. He was physically quivering from the fear of having to get up onto his feet. The pain medication was no longer enough, and I knew I just couldn’t put him through that ordeal anymore.
Creating a Peaceful Farewell
For Charlie’s final moments, I wanted nothing but peace and comfort, and for him to feel showered with love. We had a wonderful vet who we trusted and Charlie felt comfortable with, and so we made sure he was available. We decided to take Charlie into the veterinary practice as I personally didn’t want the memories of him dying in our living room. Plus, Charlie always loved going to the vets and saw it a big exciting adventure, so I knew he would be happy to go in.
I prepared a pot of his favourite treats and put his favourite toy in the car carrier. My husband was able to carry him from the house to the car, and from the car to the vets so he no longer had to go through the pain of using his legs. In the consultation room, our vet laid some soft blankets on the floor for Charlie to lie on, and we made a fuss of him, giving him handfuls of his favourite treats and stroking his ears the way he loved. He was happily wagging his tail and licking our hands. When it was time, both myself and my husband were cradling his face. I was telling him what a good boy he was, and then his head got heavy and he closed his eyes. It was so peaceful, and he looked just like he was sleeping. His pain was gone, and now he could rest.
After the Goodbye
Charlie was a big dog of 34kg, and so we chose to have him individually cremated, with his ashes returned to us in a beautiful wooden box engraved with his name. Some of my clients have found great comfort in burying their dog in a special garden spot, perhaps planting a flowering shrub above. Again, this deeply personal choice should reflect what brings you the most comfort.
Coming Home to Emptiness
That first return to a home without Charlie was perhaps the hardest moment. The silence was deafening. His empty bed in the corner of the sunroom seemed to shout his absence. His toys scattered around the house made my eyes flood with tears. I collected up all his things – toys, bowls, lead, beds – and lovingly packed them all away. I didn’t want to part with anything of his but equally couldn’t bear seeing it all around the house, and so we boxed it up and put it up in the attic. We also moved a sideboard to the spot where his bed used to be – not to erase his memory, but to ease that visual reminder of emptiness. The house felt so quiet without the click of his nails on the floors, the jangle of his collar, or his animated snoring. Keeping the radio playing softly helped fill that strange silence with gentle background noise.
Creating A Memorial Garden
We buried Charlie’s ashes in our garden a few days after receiving them back. The spot we chose was visible from every window on that side of the house, and we planted lots of bulbs all around so that it would be a burst of colour come summer. I chose a big stone and painted his name on it with a paw print and a heart. The process of burying him and saying our final goodbyes was a really comforting and I found I was able to find some peace after that day.
Finding Support in Shared Memories
In those raw first weeks, conversations with family members and friends who’d known and loved Charlie brought a huge amount of comfort. We relived our happy memories of him, laughed at the daft things he used to do, and realised what a fantastic, happy life he’d had with us, and how much he was loved.
Not everyone understood the depth of my grief. Just a couple of weeks later, a well-meaning but perhaps less understanding friend asked if I’d ‘got another dog yet?’, a question that highlighted the irreplaceable nature of Charlie. But so many other people got it completely. They sent thoughtful messages, dropped by with cards or beautiful plants, and were there with hugs when words weren’t enough.
Writing Through Grief
One thing that can really help with working through your emotions and processing grief is through writing. I found that writing down what Charlie meant to me and some of my happiest memories of him helped to bring a lot of comfort.
You could perhaps even write a letter to your dog, telling them how much they meant to you and how you’re feeling now they’re gone. Even though you’ll probably never show it to anyone, it can be a really comforting way to get those emotions out and help to process your loss.
The Comfort of Visual Memories
Throughout my career as a dog portrait artist I’ve seen firsthand, time and again, the deep comfort and lasting connection that images provide when cherishing memories of beloved companions. In the days after losing Charlie, I found huge comfort looking through my thousands of photos and videos of him. Yes, there were a lot of tears, but also so much laughter at forgotten moments—Charlie leaping full speed into a snowdrift, Charlie chasing a bee around the garden, Charlie finally learning to swim at the age of 9, Charlie frantically kicking his legs and howling while dreaming.
This process led me to select the photograph that I’ll use to create my own hand-drawn dog portrait to remember him by. It’s from a day when we were holidaying in Scotland, staying in a log cabin. He was eager to play with me and picked up his favourite toy, Penguin. In his ever-so-patient, gentle way, he was holding Penguin in his mouth, eyes looking hopefully at me, giving me his adorable ‘let’s play’ look! Planning this memorial portrait has become part of my healing journey and I know that when I come to draw it, each pencil stroke will remind me of ten years of unconditional love and happy memories.
Maintaining Routines
One of the things you realise when your dog has passed on is how much of your daily routine revolved around them. From their greeting you first thing in the morning, getting their food ready, going for walks, playing with them, taking them out places with you. Charlie and I shared some beautiful daily walks over the years. As he struggled more and more with his legs, these walks got shorter and shorter until, in the last couple of weeks, they had to stop altogether. Following Charlie’s passing, it was comforting to do our favourite walk again each day in memory of him. My husband and I would sit at our viewpoint at the furthest point of the walk, looking over the sea and sharing our memories of Charlie. With each day and each walk, we gradually found comfort in the familiar rhythm and the changing seasons. Now, these walks have become a time to feel connected to Charlie’s memory rather than pained by his absence.
Unexpected Waves
A month after Charlie passed, I automatically went to pack his things for our bank holiday mini-break before remembering he was gone. The grief hit me like a physical blow, fresh and raw all over again. These moments still come—when I find one of his hairs in my tea, when I instinctively expect him to greet me as I come in the door. Each “first” without your dog can reopen the wound—their birthday following their passing, the first Christmas, the first time you visit somewhere they loved. These moments are normal parts of grief, not setbacks in your healing.
Considering a Dog Portrait as a Lasting Tribute
Over the years I’ve created hundreds of dog portraits for clients experiencing similar losses, and I’ve seen first-hand how a tangible tribute can anchor memories in something beautiful. The process itself can be healing—selecting the perfect photo, discussing your dog’s unique personality traits, seeing their spirit come to life through the drawing. If you’re considering ways to keep your dog’s memory alive, perhaps a dog portrait could offer a tangible and timeless way to celebrate what they meant to you.
When I finally hang Charlie’s finished dog portrait on our living room wall, I know that things will subtly shift within our home. Instead of the ache of his absence, I’ll find myself smiling at the image of his playful face gazing back at me. This portrait won’t ever replace him, of course, but I know it will become a way to celebrate the beautiful life we shared, keeping his essence present in a way that brings a gentle comfort, rather than the sharp pang of sadness.
For many of my clients, commissioning a dog portrait becomes an important part of their grieving journey. We often spend as much time talking about stories and memories of their dog as we do discussing the artistic details of their portrait. These conversations help me to create a portrait that reflects the immense joy their dog brought them, and the special companionship they shared.
Finding Comfort and Peace
Grief isn’t something we simply “get over”—it’s the enduring imprint of love on our hearts. I still feel Charlie’s absence, but the sharpest edges of my grief have softened slightly, replaced by a gentle fondness for the memories we created. And I know that when I feel ready to create a portrait of him, that portrait won’t just be a picture; it will be a quiet presence, a daily reminder of the immense joy he brought into our lives.
If you are navigating the raw pain of losing your own beloved dog, please know that your feelings are valid and your grief is unique to your bond. There is no right or wrong way to remember your companion. Whether you find solace in creating a personal memorial, cherishing photographs, or simply holding their love within you, know that their life mattered deeply and the love you shared continues.
When the time feels right, and if you are looking for a tangible way to honour their unique spirit, a custom dog portrait created with empathy and understanding can become a cherished keepsake. As a dog portrait artist who has personally experienced this profound loss, I approach each commission with sensitivity, aiming to capture the essence of your beloved friend in a way that brings lasting comfort and joy. If you feel this might be a path towards healing and remembrance for you, I am here to listen and create a meaningful tribute to your cherished companion. Just get in touch, and we can start the conversation.
