According to the internet—a lot of things these days seem to fall appropriately under that prepositional phrase—the best way to deal with the loss of a pet is through uncomfortable puns and poorly written poetry:
I actually find the repetition of 'go' in this stanza effective and uncomfortably moving.
The time has come I think you know
the Lord is calling so I must go
I love you so much; I wish it wasn't so
I wish I could stay; I don't want to go
I guess that uncomfortability is one of the internet's main themes. For example, I am now going to post a tribute video for my cat, which you will feel guilty for not watching all the way through, even though it is uncomfortably long:
Just for those of you who might have to face the same burden of grief that I have learned to bear forth after the lost of my cat Buster, I wanted to recommend Christopher Smart's tribute to his cat Jeoffry*. I know you know it already. Memory is useful in these times.
The autobiographical nature persistent in the work of amateur poets universally suggests poetry's utility as an art of emotional export. The autobiographical nature persistent in the work of our masters is a comfort in the face of the possible death/rebirth of poetry.
If you feel up for the former sometimes, me too:
The Lord is calling now I must go*I would also like to remind that audience that this is a section from Smart's larger insane masterpiece Jubilate Agno. It's good.
but before I go I want you to know
I know it hurts to lose a friend
but I'll always be with you even to the end.**
**written by John Quealy