‘I SOON REALISED I WASN’T THE ONLY ONE GRIEVING’

When south London illustrator Helen Morrish, 53, lost her husband Stevie, 56, the death hit their dog, Rupert, hard.

When our five-month-old Staffie, Rupert, bounded into the house in 2011, he and my husband Stevie soon became the best of friends. Desperate for a pet dog, Stevie, then 52, was delighted to find Rupert at Battersea Dogs & Cats Home, and make him part of the family.

Even though the addition of an energetic Staffie to our house wasn’t always easy, Stevie took on all the responsibility of training and walking him. They went everywhere together, with Rupert even joining Stevie at his work as a painter and decorator – not forgetting trips to the pub, too. They adored each other.

But after five happy years, everything suddenly changed.

It was February 2016, and we were due to spend the evening out with friends. But not feeling well, Stevie stayed home. He’d been struggling to sleep, so when I returned and saw him slumped on the sofa, Rupert curled up beside him, I felt relieved that he was finally getting a peaceful night’s shut-eye.

But when I made my way downstairs in the morning and discovered Stevie in the same position, I realised that he wasn’t sleeping. He had passed away in his sleep, of a heart condition he’d suffered with since his 20s. As I desperately called 999 in tears and attempted CPR, Rupert remained dutifully by Stevie’s side.

In the days and weeks that followed Stevie’s sudden death aged 56, I felt numbed by the grief consuming me. But I soon realised I wasn’t the only one grieving – Rupert’s behaviour had completely changed. I’d find him searching the rooms of our house, looking for Stevie, and far from his usual energetic self, he slept most of the day away. No longer able to stick by Stevie’s side, Rupert was increasingly clingy with me. I couldn’t even use the loo without him following me there, crying and pawing at

the door. I tried to reassure him, telling him I was there and showering him with cuddles, but it was tough. It was obvious that he was missing his best friend, just like I was.

I decided Rupert should join me at Stevie's funeral. He was there sitting next to me, wearing a red polka-dot bow tie.

A new bond

Searching the internet, I learned that dogs can grieve just like humans do, experiencing depression, fatigue and anxiety. The main advice I received was to try and keep Rupert’s routine the same, as disruptions to a dog’s routine cause them distress. Every morning I took him for his usual walk, and then, when I had to return to work a couple of months later, I hired dog walkers and called on friends to help out.

Rupert could sense my sadness, too. If he found me crying, he’d bring me his favourite toy. Staffies are really sensitive to human emotions, so it felt like we were trying our best to make each other feel better. As Rupert’s grief evolved, his behaviour worsened, and he’d pull on his lead and refuse to follow commands. An animal behaviourist advised me that I needed to retrain Rupert to see me as the leader. With simple steps like deepening my tone of voice and letting him follow behind me into the house, I asserted my authority, and Rupert learned that I was the new leader of the pack. Our relationship completely changed, and we bonded through our shared loss. I even started writing an illustrated novel about Rupert, using it as an outlet to describe our grief and to celebrate Stevie’s life.

Sadly, Rupert passed away in December 2021, just weeks before my book was published. His ashes sit next to Stevie’s on top of my piano, together again. I’ll never forget how we helped each other through that difficult time.

‘Rupert could sense my sadness’