I'm so sorry for your loss. No one should ever have to deal with this, but here we are.
Some people cannot bear to see their pet's belongings, others might want to keep them around for a while. Do whatever feels right for you.
If you don't want to have your pet's stuff around any more, some of it can be donated to an animal shelter. Please check what they accept first; if you bring things they can't use, they will just have to do extra work to throw them out.
Shelters can usually accept clean hard-shell crates/carriers, and unopened packaged food. Used bedding or other soft items often cannot be taken for hygiene reasons.
If possible, assemble a team of people who are willing to help you out after your loved one passes. I was incapable of doing anything without sobbing for weeks after Reese passed.
Things you might consider asking friends, housemates, and neighbors to help you with
If you don't have people who are able to help you out, consider contacting a pet death doula or a therapist.
Everyone's process can look different. Mine looked like this:
Many people may not know to say in response to your loss. It's common to receive platitudes about how time will heal all wounds or whatever, which, while partially true, is probably not what you need to hear right now.
Direct communication is best for everyone. Tell people what's going on with you, how you want to be supported, and how you don't want to be supported. It may take a little trial and error, and that's fine. Some examples of ways I have communicated:
Not everyone may understand how important your pet is to you, especially people who don't know you as well. An argument about the importance of your relationship with your loved one is the last thing you need right now. It's okay to just tell your employer "I need bereavement leave" or "I am grieving the loss of a loved one."
After Reese died, as I was about to go to bed, I reflexively opened the refrigerator to get out his nightly medication that he had been taking every day for the last two years. I had a complete breakdown in the kitchen as I remembered that he did not need it any more. (This kind of thing happened tens of times a day for the first week, but faded quickly with exposure to my everyday activities. I still cry whenever I do something for the first time that I haven't done since Reese was alive.)
I found it cathartic the next day to clean up his stuff: emptying out Reese's medications, cleaning his litter area, and moving his belongings, helping to remind my body and muscle memory that he would not need them any more.
Some ideas for routines to try:
It's an enormous task to cope with the sudden collapse of daily routines. It's extremely normal to have unpredictable emotional reactions -- sobbing, collapsing, dissociating, or going numb and feeling nothing -- when doing little mundane things that remind us of the loss of a loved one. It can help to have a check-in buddy, or someone to help you brainstorm new routines to try, or friends to help you get outside.
I get phantom Reese all the time -- after 13 years of life with Reese, my body is so used to him constantly being there, jumping into my lap, headbutting my arm, or putting his paw on my cheek that I can almost feel him.
I had no appetite at all and could barely taste food toward the end of Reese's life or for over a month after he died. I could only tell my body was hungry if I forgot to eat for so long that I felt physical pain in my belly.
Food ideas:
I was not capable of safely keeping an eye on the stove for a while after Reese died, so I stuck to extremely simple food preparation such as using the rice cooker or microwave, frying dumplings/tortillas, or eating things that didn't need to be cooked at all.
Some ideas:
Pet hospice services may offer aftercare services, hotlines, or support groups for humans who have just lost their pets.
Tanya's Guide has a list of support groups and a page on coping with loss that helped me enormously.
During the pandemic, I developed a general mental health public resource kit, innerdemons.me.
Some of the tools and coping mechanisms I have found most helpful to deal with my grief:
Thinking about getting a new pet after your kitty soulmate passes is like thinking about looking for hookups on Tinder after your spouse passes. It is a profoundly weird experience that might be helpful for some people and a terrible idea for other people.
Near the end of Reese's life, I felt incredibly disloyal about the mere thought of ever getting a new pet in the future, but this quickly subsided. A new cat does not replace your old cat in the same way that a new child does not replace a past spouse, or a new friend does not replace a sibling. Different human relationships are completely different, and different cat relationships are also completely different (assuming you don't try to force them into a mold).
Reese and I were together for 13 years, and I was an entirely different person when we first met. Any future cats could not possibly have the same relationship we did, but something different. Reese was my soulmate and my anchor, while my new cattens are my weird little children.
If you want to have cat energy in your life again but are scared or unwilling to make a commitment, volunteering or fostering for a local shelter is a great way to temporarily get cat companionship (and help out rescue cats) without making a permanent commitment.
Fostering helps give shelter pets a better and less stressful environment while they're waiting for adoption. And if a foster animal comes along one day who makes you change your mind, the foster parent typically gets first dibs on adoption.
Shelters are typically overrun with kittens from around April to October. Fostering kittens is particularly helpful during this time, and kittens are a great source of joy. I've found that I can cry about Reese and be filled with kitten dopamine simultaneously.