After They Cross Over: Staying Connected With Your Pet Beyond Death
Gunnar, my Golden Boy
When an animal we love dies, there's a question that doesn't always get spoken aloud, but lives quietly in the hearts of so many of us: Is it really over?
In my experience as an animal communicator, and as someone present at many animal deaths in my own home, the answer is a clear and tender no. The body is gone. Yes. And we miss the body enormously. We miss the sound of their footsteps, the rhythm of feeding them, the particular weight of their presence beside us. But the soul? The connection? That is never interrupted.
What "Staying Close" Actually Looks Like
Shortly after an animal crosses over, something remarkable often happens: they stay near. A few months ago, one of my own dogs died, and in those first weeks, he showed up constantly - not physically, but energetically. He was checking in. He knew I was grieving. He knew my other animals were grieving too.
Over time, those visits became less frequent. That's natural. But they didn't stop.
When I say "appearances," I want to be clear about what I mean - because this isn't just for those who consider themselves psychic or sensitive. For some people, their animal comes in dreams. For others, it's a soft, warm feeling, like a presence that can't quite be named. Sometimes it's simply that you find yourself thinking about them often and intensely. I always say: when someone who has crossed over suddenly floods your thoughts, they are in your energy field. They are reaching toward you.
Creating Rituals That Honor Who They Were
One of the most meaningful things we can do after a loss is create touchpoints, personal rituals that honor the specific connection we shared with that animal.
One family I worked with had a dog who had been with them for many years, who had witnessed the birth of two of their children. After she died, they took her ashes on a hike and released them in the places she had loved most, the spots where the family used to stop for picnic breaks, where she would run ahead and circle back, tail going.
Another family lost their German Shepherd. When I connected with her in spirit, she had a very clear message: I want you to see the wolves. She wanted her family to remember her genetic memory, her lineage. So they took their two young daughters on a day trip to a wolf sanctuary. It was exactly what she asked for.
These rituals don't have to be elaborate. Sometimes it's a candle. A framed photograph. A walk you used to take together. For me, it's often writing — I've published essays about my animals and the end-of-life journey because words are how I process and how I honor.
They Don't Stop Working
Here's something that might surprise you: many animals in the spirit realm don't stop doing things. They find new ways to show up and contribute.
One of my dogs has become a spirit helper in my sessions — when I'm working with a pet in a difficult hospice situation, he comes in with a kind of steady wisdom. Another dog I lived with years ago is what I can only call a surgery helper. When I'm energetically preparing an animal for an operation, he sometimes shows up to be with them as they go under anesthesia.
And then there's Moopy, my legendary black cat, the goddess Moopy, who appointed herself the threshold guardian for all the cats who die on streets and in shelters without a person beside them. She decided that was her mission, and she took it up without being asked.
I’ve also put together a video about which you can watch here:
Please Don't Speak of Them in the Past Tense
I cannot count the number of times I've been in a session with an animal in the spirit realm, and they've said, with something between amusement and exasperation: Why do you talk about me as if I'm gone? I'm right here.
They know when we speak their names. They know when we think about them. They want to guide us, comfort us, and sometimes, like Moopy, go on entirely new missions of their own.
Grief is real, and it deserves space. The longing is real. But love doesn't expire, and neither does a soul.
They are with us. Different now — but with us. Souls don't have expiration dates.
