Contemplating creativity when grief is overwhelming

*** Trigger warning: pet loss grief. ***

It’s been a week since my soul dog Webber left us, it feels like a lifetime but also just moments ago. He died last Wednesday, 7th January 2026, peacefully in my arms at home. We shared one last glorious sunset and sunrise together and he ate some hot chippies before he left.

Grief has hit me hard as I always knew it would, I don’t know how to exist without my little shadow, the rhythm of my days, my sunshine. My days begin in a quiet fog, my senses are dulled, my movements very slow.

My creative outlet since he left has been writing down memories of him. I ordered a memorial book, the type humans have at funerals, and that’s where I’ll be writing my love letters to Webby. Until it arrives, I’m making notes in my phone. I thought about binding a book myself, or using one I already had, but I wanted his name printed on the cover, and the effort to find somewhere to do that was too much.

I have also scanned his paw prints and prepared them for printing on t-shirts, a tattoo, and I’m sure I’ll find many other places to share them.

My next project will be photos. We have all our old photos stored in boxes, they used to be in albums, but when we moved into the tiny house in 2021, there simply wasn’t room. I’m still undecided whether I will buy new slip-in albums or scan all the photos I don’t have files for and make photo books. I’ll also need to download and print all the photos in the years since. It’s a massive job, and looking at the photos will be painful (choosing just a few for this post has brought floods of tears), but if I do it slowly and with intention, be in the moment with each photo, I’m sure it will uncover memories I may not have otherwise remembered and there will be joy too.

In my six years as a professional photographer I used to be very disciplined in my photo archiving processes, now they all just sit on my phone with a select few being posted to my doggies Instagram. The fact all those memories are stored on a platform I have no control over, my account could be hacked at any time or closed without notice is a risk I need to mitigate, the memories are too precious.

I rarely use my DSLR cameras anymore, mainly for taking reference photos of critters for my paintings, but when I sifted though photos for Webber’s announcement post, I was grateful I took so many beautiful photos of him with those cameras. Whilst it is often said the best camera is the one you have with you, and phone cameras are pretty amazing now, phone photos just don’t compare to those taken on a DSLR with a professional lens.

My Dog (yes, Dog, I believe dogs are the highest being), from this moment on, I’m resisting taking photos in portrait orientation. Technology and social media have conditioned us to share our lives in a narrowed view, but we see the world in landscape, in the equivalent of a 50mm lens. There’s beauty in the peripheral, horizontal space is required for our eyes to take in a scene, negative space gives the subject somewhere to go, a narrow view creates tension. In landscape there’s room for composition, creativity, telling a story.

In grief I feel myself rebelling against the constructs technology and social media have accustomed us to. As I grow around my grief, I want to lean into what is authentic for me in expressing my creativity, not fit a dictated format, spewing out trends, chasing follows and likes, performing for entertainment. 

It’s agony acknowledging how much of my time and energy was focused on Webber’s care the past few years, particularly the last three months, and how much I neglected my own wants and needs, including creativity. Caring for him gave me purpose, painting felt selfish, I knew that getting into a state of flow requires intense focus, free from distractions, and that it would mean I wouldn’t be in tune with his needs and miss out on precious moments with him.

So instead, I would restock my market stall textiles and art journals in concentrated bursts, churning work out working long hours for a few days at a time, so I’d be freed up sooner to be present again. That work was production line, no real brainpower or focus required, I could still care for him, albeit with not as much presence as I would like. He would sleep by my side, patiently waiting, he seemed to know what I was trying to do.

I still have our other doggy Chloe to love and care for. She’s always been my husband Matt’s dog, Webber was mine. She’s always been more independent, healthier, has her own routines. I need to form a closer bond with her again, I’ve realised in focusing so much of my heart on Webby, Chloe may have missed out. She doesn’t like me holding her like Web did, doesn’t tolerate my kisses as much, or follow me around.

When I look at Chloe, I see Webber too, they grew up together. She was our original girl, we had her for eight weeks before Webber joined our family, and she was supposed to be my dog but she chose Matt. Webber was supposed to be Matt’s, but he very adamantly chose me. Isn’t that just the most beautiful thing? Us humans didn’t have a say in this it was entirely up to them.

My mantra this year will be “What would Webber do?” Webber would be free and expressive and full of love and joy. He would be present and mindful. He would sleep and recharge and feel the breeze on his fur and the sun on his face. He would do what he wanted to do, what felt good in his sweet little heart.

The loss of my angel heart bubba boy has changed me, trauma always does, I changed when my Mum died in 2018 too. If I could press a button to take away the pain, but it would mean I never experienced all that love, would I? Absolutely not.

I’ve always said Webber was sent from somewhere else to teach us humans a thing or two about love and kindness. He changed me when he entered my life, it’s only fitting I change with his departure.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”  Winnie the Pooh / A. A. Milne.

This change, as excruciating as it is, will make me more creative, I’m sure of it. Webber wouldn’t want it any other way.

Please share your soul pet stories in the comments, whether they are still with you or departed, lets share the joys and sorrows of loving so fiercely.

Kathy x

This blog post is 100% written by me, a living, breathing (even though breathing is really hard right now) human being. Absolutely no AI was used. These are all my own words and images, imperfect as they may be.