Pet Grief: Don Barnes Is Making Space for America’s Broken Hearts From Dead Furry Friends

By all accounts, Don Barnes is a unicorn. Not the kind Silicon Valley likes to hype, but the kind you actually need when you are crumpled on the floor sobbing over the death of your dog while everyone at work gives you a tight little smile and says it was just a pet.

Barnes, based in Los Angeles, has spent decades helping people navigate the real grief of losing an animal. His site, MyDogDied.com, is part hotline, part confessional, and part cultural correction to one of the great unspoken truths of modern American life. We are obsessed with our pets but nobody knows how to talk about what happens when they die.

If you think that sounds like an overstatement, stop and look at the numbers.

More than 66 percent of households in the United States own a pet, up from 56 percent in 1988 according to the American Pet Products Association. That comes to about 86.9 million homes. Among them, roughly 65.1 million households have dogs and 46.5 million have cats. In 2022 alone Americans spent more than 136.8 billion dollars on their pets. Even in a rough economy that figure represented an increase of nearly 11 percent over the previous year.

We also say we love them like family. Ninety-seven percent of owners consider their pets family members and more than half say they are equal to human relatives, according to Pew Research. And when those pets die the emotional fallout is serious. One study showed that 85 percent of pet owners experience grief symptoms immediately. Thirty percent report clinical depression symptoms lasting at least six months. Roughly 4 percent each year suffer from complicated grief, a severe form that can impair daily functioning.

This is where Barnes comes in.

The Grief Guy

Barnes is not a therapist in the formal sense, although he brings decades of medical expertise as a seasoned emergency responder and the country’s top Pet CPR instructor. For more than 25 years he has counseled pet owners through their grief by phone, Skype, email, or whatever medium works. He reads aloud the letters people send him and validates their experiences while teaching them to normalize their feelings.

His clients include everyone from everyday dog lovers to celebrities who do not want their names in print. Confidentiality is part of the job. Empathy is the rest.

When I called him he was calm, intense, and matter of fact. “People need permission to grieve,” he told me. “Society doesn’t give it to them.”

He is not wrong. Most employers still do not offer bereavement leave for pets despite their enormous presence in our lives. According to the Society for Human Resource Management fewer than 15 percent of U.S. companies offer any kind of pet bereavement policy. Yet almost 40 percent of pet owners say they would consider switching jobs for an employer who did.

The Silent Epidemic

The silence around pet grief has consequences. Untreated grief contributes to depression, social withdrawal, and even physical illness. The cultural narrative, even as we spend billions on organic treats and orthopedic dog beds, still trivializes this kind of loss.

Barnes’s site fills the gap. MyDogDied.com is a place to feel heard. There are no upcharges, no branded trinkets, no sales pitch. Just someone who listens.

This may sound niche, but the U.S. pet loss industry, which includes memorial products, funerals, cremation, and grief counseling, is already valued at over 500 million dollars annually and continues to grow. Millennials, the most pet-obsessed generation yet, are driving that trend.

A Growing Movement

Barnes is not alone in recognizing this demand. Veterinary schools run hotlines, and urban therapy groups are cropping up. But his longevity and personal touch stand out. He is not trying to build an app with push notifications and a paywall. He is trying to build trust, one person at a time.

Americans now own more than 85 million cats and nearly 78 million dogs. We share our homes, our paychecks, and sometimes even our health benefits with them. Yet when one dies the cultural expectation is still to “move on” quietly.

Barnes is pushing back. He says what others don’t. That grief over a pet is real, it matters, and it deserves to be honored.

In a world awash in performative empathy, Barnes does something rare. He shows up. And if you ever find yourself clutching a collar and staring at an empty dog bed, you now know who to call.

That isn’t weird.

That’s just being human.