“We’ll be friends forever, won’t we, Pooh?” asked Piglet.
“Even longer,” Pooh answered.
A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh
So, I asked AI – Chat GPT to be exact – for idea on Articles for Gracie’s Way it mentioned recommending or discussing the idea of writing a letter your pet after they’ve gone. I absolutely loved this thought because I’ve actually written letters to pets after they’ve passed – and whilst they’ve been alive (mostly on Birthdays) – that I’ve published in blog posts on my mental health blog; I’m NOT Disordered (www.imnotdisordered.co.uk). I’ll link a few of them after this little introduction...
Previous Pet ‘Letters’
This one (DEAR DOLLY & SOME ADVICE | TWO YEARS SINCE THE DEATH OF MY CAT | IN COLLABORATION WITH CATS PROTECTION | AD | I'm NOT Disordered ) was for my first cat: Dolly and it was to mark two years after she had died.
This one (DEAR PIXIE, | ALMOST ONE YEAR WITHOUT MY BUNNY | I'm NOT Disordered) was for my first rabbit; Pixie and it was to mark almost one year without her.
Then this one (DEAR EMMY, PLEASE STAY ALIVE | I'm NOT Disordered) was actually when my rescue cat; Emmy, had become poorly (she died just over two weeks later).
I’ve actually also written letters to my pets when they were alive too! I think this is probably because I find writing, in general, so therapeutic and rewarding in believing it provides the perfect opportunity to process thoughts and feelings (both difficult and positive) and that it can help you to really capture a moment in a way which, I think, is sometimes even more effective and accurate than a photo:
Dear Dolly, | I'm NOT Disordered
DEAR LUNA, | INTRODUCING MY NEW BUNNY!!! | I'm NOT Disordered
2 BIG Lessons I Learnt & Tips I’d Give From Them:
1. Don’t re-read it unless you think that you’re really ready and able to cope if you go back to feeling exactly how you felt when you wrote it – I learnt this literally from reading one of the letters I linked above when I added it! If you want to re-read yours, here are five tips to doing so:
ü Choose the moment in which you’re going to re-read it – don’t just ambush yourself by suddenly and surprisingly looking at it (as I did!).
ü Let your body and mind lead the pace at which you read it – don’t rush over sentences or feel that you need to keep to a certain speed or rhythm.
ü Notice if you feel anything different this time – if it’s less painful or more heartbreaking and take those feelings as a sign or guide to reading it again. (For me, I felt even more heartache, so I can’t imagine ever doing it again!)
ü Feel free to make additional notes on what you’ve written or underline bits that are still true and you could even date any notations so that if you read it again, you can really determine any sort of pattern or difference in your thoughts and feelings.
ü What you do after re-reading it, truly matters – I cried and then watched a comedy on Netflix! You could make sure the letter (if it’s physical) is stored somewhere safe and you may want to do some grounding exercises or activities.
2. You might feel silly (I did when I first started) – that’s normal. But please try or give some time to the five tips below to overcome it and to be able to still benefit from writing the letter:
ü Name the feeling instead of fighting it. Recognise that you feel silly or stupid or petty for doing it, because how else can you overcome it?
ü Remember: you’re writing for the bond and not for anything even remotely to do with logic!
ü Remove the idea of an audience – even if it’s an imaginary one and you’re genuinely not planning to ever share the letter, but you still feel that wary notion.
ü Start however you want: the important part is that you do it, not how well it reads and whether it makes a lot of sense to anyone else! Your bond is all that matters in doing this.
ü Try to reframe the activity as an act of care rather than creativity so that any feelings around the fact that you perhaps don’t enjoy writing or being creative in this way, doesn’t stop you from doing it and benefiting from it.
10 Tips On When (and When Not!) To Write The Letter:
Many people worry about when they’re “supposed” to write a letter to their pet. The truth is, this isn’t a task to complete—it’s an invitation you can accept, decline, or return to later…
- Write the letter when the words feel crowded inside you and need somewhere to land.
- Don’t write it because you think you should—grief doesn’t respond well to obligation.
- Write it if you’re missing your pet in an ordinary, quiet way, not only on the hardest days.
- Don’t write it when you feel emotionally flooded and unsafe—grounding comes first.
- Write it when you want to say something you never got to say out loud.
- Don’t write it expecting closure; letters offer connection, not conclusions.
- Write it in fragments, lists, or half-sentences if that’s all you have.
- Don’t force yourself to finish it in one sitting—the letter doesn’t have a deadline.
- Write it again if you change, if your grief changes, if your love changes shape.
- Don’t write it at all if today the kindest thing you can do is rest.
5 Tips to Emotionally Prepare:
Before you begin writing, it can help to tend gently to your emotional state. Preparing doesn’t mean making the feelings go away—it means creating enough safety to let them exist. These small steps are about care, not control.
- Check in with your body first: Notice where you feel tension, heaviness, or calm, and take a few slow breaths before you start.
- Set an intention, not an outcome: You’re not trying to feel better, finish the letter, or find the right words—only to be honest.
- Give yourself permission to stop at any point: Knowing you can pause or walk away often makes beginning feel less frightening.
- Anchor yourself with something familiar: Holding a photo, collar, or object connected to your pet can create a sense of steadiness as you write.
- Remind yourself that whatever shows up is allowed: Tears, anger, love, numbness, or silence are all part of grief—and none of them mean you’re doing this wrong.
5 Tips to Practically Prepare:
Practical preparation can make writing feel less overwhelming and more contained. Small choices about time, space, and materials help signal to your nervous system that you’re safe. You don’t need a perfect setup—just one that supports you.
- Choose a time with no immediate demands afterward: Knowing you don’t have to rush back into normal life can help you relax into the moment.
- Pick a quiet, comfortable place: A familiar space where you feel physically at ease can make it easier to focus inward.
- Decide how you want to write before you begin: Pen and paper, notes app, or laptop—removing this decision in advance reduces friction.
- Have tissues, water, or a grounding object nearby: Small comforts prevent interruptions and help you stay present if emotions rise.
- Set a gentle boundary around the time: You might choose to write for ten minutes, one page, or one thought—limits can feel supportive, not restrictive.
10 Things That Don’t Matter
1. Spelling or grammar: This isn’t school, work, or something to be graded.
2. How it sounds to anyone else: No one else is meant to read it unless you choose to share it.
3. Being repetitive: Grief circles back to the same thoughts for a reason.
4. Making it “beautiful” or poetic: Honest words matter more than polished ones.
5. Writing in complete sentences: Fragments, lists, and unfinished thoughts are enough.
6. Crying—or not crying: Both are valid responses to loss.
7. Feeling angry, relieved, confused, or numb: Mixed emotions don’t cancel out love.
8. Whether you say goodbye the “right” way: There is no script for this.
9. Finishing the letter in one sitting: You can come back to it anytime.
10. What this means about your healing: Writing a letter doesn’t measure progress—it simply reflects where you are.
What To Do With the Letter Afterwards
Once the letter is written, many people wonder what they’re supposed to do with it. There’s no correct next step—only what feels supportive to you in this moment. Some people want to keep the letter close, others want to mark the writing with a ritual, and some aren’t ready to decide at all. All of these responses are valid.
- Keep it somewhere safe: A drawer, memory box, or journal can hold the letter until you’re ready to return to it—or not.
- Read it aloud: Hearing the words can feel like a release or a quiet continuation of connection.
- Turn it into a ritual: You might light a candle, visit a favourite walking spot, or choose a meaningful date to honour what you wrote.
- Add to it over time: The letter doesn’t have to stay fixed; you can write new ones as your grief and love change.
- Let it go in a way that feels symbolic: Some people choose to bury, burn, or otherwise release the letter as a private act of closure or remembrance.
Aftercare
Writing a letter to your pet can stir up a lot—sometimes more than expected. Aftercare isn’t about recovering quickly or feeling better; it’s about meeting yourself gently in whatever state you’re in. What you do after writing matters just as much as the writing itself. These thoughts are here to help you land softly.
- Pause before re-entering your day: Give yourself a few minutes to breathe and transition.
- Hydrate or eat something simple: Strong emotions can be physically draining.
- Ground yourself in the present moment: Step outside, notice your surroundings, or place your feet firmly on the floor.
- Lower expectations for the rest of the day: This counts as emotional work.
- Resist the urge to analyse what you wrote: You don’t need to interpret or judge it.
- Let emotions come and go without chasing them: You don’t have to hold onto pain to honour love.
- Reach out if you need company: A trusted person or quiet presence can help you feel less alone.
- Choose comfort over productivity: Rest, warmth, and familiarity are appropriate responses.
- Remind yourself that grief can ebb and flow: A surge of feeling doesn’t mean you’ve gone backward.
- Thank yourself for showing up: Tending to grief is an act of care, not weakness.
