“To live in hearts we leave behind, is not to die.” Thomas Campbell

What happens when a pet dies? The same as when a human does. They become energy: transformed into something or someone else. This energy lingers around in your home and in the life you continue to lead. 

I cried every day for a few weeks after my dog’s passing. But life kept me busy so I never got to grieve. I am grateful for that because it is exactly what I needed but, watching a dog’s burial on video call is not my ideal funeral setting. 

It was rainy season in Karachi, end of summer, when Riley passed away. I was in Sydney, sitting in my lounge room on a cool winter’s day, when I noticed my younger brother’s video call. It was time to lay Riley to rest. My beautiful, double coated, black and brown puppy, had suffered multiple seizures and it was time to put him out of his misery. 

Death is a natural phenomena. You return the way you came into this world. At least that’s what I believe. Different cultures do death differently. In my culture, the Zoroastrian way, we don’t mourn death, instead we celebrate life. We couldn’t put Riley in the tower of silence where Zoroatrian humans go after passing, so, for my family, burial was the most meaningful way. All my dogs are buried in our backyard in our home in Karachi.

On the video call, while staring at the screen to say goodbye, I just couldn’t do it. All the good memories I had with Riley, of love and clumsiness, and singing together and crying together came rushing back. I remember the day he arrived at our home on the 5th of July, seven years ago, with one floppy ear. We put him in an old orange jersey, which he immediately tore off.  

I’m always walking into glass doors or tripping over my own feet. We were quite alike that way. We shared a love for music. He would hold down my piano pedal and sing along with me. He’d also let me know when he didn’t enjoy the music because his howl would increase to a sharpening, shrieking decibel level. Riley was my best friend. 

Being connected to your pet is a spiritual experience. My connection to Riley was quite strong that I would physically have a reaction - a stabbing pain in my chest - when I knew he was unwell. That didn’t stop when I was across continents. There were times when I would wake up in the middle of the night and sense something was wrong and then call home, to find out something had gone wrong with Riley’s health. 

As someone who suffers from epilepsy, the trauma of losing my dog to seizures is something that will take a long time to heal. This is how I know I was truly connected to his soul. I think he took ‘like owner, like dog’ a bit too far, but that was just him.

I can’t speak for others’ spiritual practices or religious beliefs, but a lot of my spiritual practice comes from feeling. And you can’t ‘teach’ a feeling, it’s something you experience, and the experience of spending time with Riley, was a very special one. Leaving home was always hard because part of my heart got left in Riley each time. He would sit in my empty suitcase before I packed and I would tell him “I wish I could pack you with me” and I never could. 

My intuition, when it came to Riley, was very strong, I somehow knew he wasn’t going to make it when I left Karachi in April of 2022. He was unwell. He had diabetes and was going partially blind. When I left, my final words to him were, “Please be alive when I get back”. In my heart, I knew it was “see you on the other side my furry friend”.  

And so on 29th August 2022, Riley was laid down to rest. He was only seven years old, but the end of his life was not what we were prepared for. I know that his spirit will linger in my home, and I will continue to see and feel him at various milestones in my life. He listened to me whine about everything – from work, to studies, to whinging about my parents, to boy troubles, to being an ear for my out of tune guitar songs. He also knew when I was sad. German Shepards are massive dogs and weigh a lot. When I was sad, Riley would sit on top of me like a weighted blanket and it worked the same, this one was just more fluffier. 

In the final moments of watching his burial, I could smell the musky Karachi air in my living room. I wish I could have been there with my family. I wish I could have said goodbye; wish I could have thanked him for all the memories he provided; for all the joy he brought me and my family. Pets become family, and Riley is family as he continues to live in our hearts.

The bereavement of a pet is very real. The pain of losing one never goes away. You just learn to live with the loss, just as I am learning to live with it.

Almitra Mavalvala is a Karachi-born writer, performer, composer and actor from Sydney. She hopes to tell stories that will stay with you for a long time. You can find her on Instagram.