When we first noticed Freddie’s behavior, we truly believed that something was wrong with our furry baby. Every day, around the same time, he would crawl into the same spot in front of the doorway. He would not engage with us, would not eat, and did not seem interested in going outside.

We would try to take him for a walk, pet him, comfort him, and encourage him to move, but he would simply return to that same corner.

Concerned, we took him to the veterinarian. After examining him, they told us that Freddie was physically fine and that there was nothing medically wrong with him.

That evening, when he returned home around 5:30, Freddie displayed the exact same behavior. He would not engage, eat, drink, or move from that spot. I told Clare what was happening, and after doing a session with Freddie, she reassured me that he was fine. She told me to give him time—perhaps a week to a week and a half—and that he would eventually return to himself.
She explained that Freddie was mourning the death of my father. More than that, she said that he was honoring the passage my father had taken as he left the house.

At the time, Freddie’s behavior seemed bizarre and difficult to understand. But it continued for approximately a week and a half, and then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, he stopped.
Recently, my beloved white furry baby, Marz, passed away, and once again, Freddie began displaying the exact same behavior.

This time, however, I understood.

What had once seemed bizarre or inexplicable now made sense to me. Freddie was mourning. He was processing his loss in the only way he knew how. He returned to that same place, became quiet and withdrawn, and seemed to honor the passing in his own way.
Because I understood what was happening this time, I was able to comfort and support him rather than simply worry about him or try to change his behavior. And in his own way, Freddie comforted and supported me, too.

There was something deeply beautiful about realizing that we were grieving together. I was able to support him as he had supported me and recognize that his silence, his stillness, and his return to that familiar place were not meaningless at all.

They were his way of mourning, remembering, and saying goodbye.

And through all of this, I have come to understand even more deeply that Clare has been given a beautiful and extraordinary gift—one that I cannot fully explain with words. It is a gift that allows her to connect with and help others in ways that are difficult to put into words. The experiences are simply beyond explanation; you have to experience them yourself to truly understand and believe.