"Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep": Sending a Pet into the Afterlife

This is my baby Cuddles. She was born on July 5, 2003, to one of my mom's friend's cats, and she and her mommy came to live with us shortly thereafter. She lived a good, long life with us, filled with love and treats and lots of snuggles, but then in March of 2011, we noticed that she was vomiting way more than usual and that she was losing weight. We took her to the vet, and she gave us the worst news that any vet will ever have to give: our baby was dying. She had terminal lymphoma, and she had anywhere from a few weeks to a few months left to live.

Over a year later on May 9, 2012, at the tender age of 8, after a long and valiant fight, she crossed over to the Summerlands. I came home from school yesterday to find her lying on the floor and struggling to breathe. My dad and I didn't want to make any decisions without talking to my mother and my brother first, but the second they came home, my mother took one look at her and said that she wasn't going to live through the next 24 hours. We made the very difficult decision to take her to the vet so that she could have a quick, painless, and peaceful passing, rather than wait the 24 hours and allow her to suffer any further. The vet gave Cuddles a blanket to lie on, and I crouched down at the head of the cold, metal table and stroked her head, telling her that we love her and that Bast would take good care of her. I made sure to keep eye contact with her as the vet gave her the injection, and I watched as she passed quickly and peacefully from this life into the next.

When we got home from the vet's office, I allowed myself to just sit and grieve for a while before getting started with the crossing over ceremony, which my friend Monica sent to me. Once I was ready, I arranged the altar; I used a white candle and a green candle, in which I carved her name and her birth and death dates. I placed these around the Bast statuette that I had sitting on my altar, I propped up the Bast card from Doreen Valiente's Goddess Guidance Oracle Cards behind that, and then I placed Cuddles' picture in front of the Bast card. For the ceremony, I asked Bast and Anubis to guide Cuddles into the afterlife, and then I recited the poem Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye. After this, I gave Cuddles one last can of her favorite food, as well as a nice healthy pinch of catnip, to take with her into the afterlife. I sent her all of my love and as much energy as I could give to her, and I asked Bast and Anubis to watch over her and to take good care of her until I can meet up with her again.

After the ceremony was finished, I didn't feel any better, but I felt confident that Cuddles had gone where she needed to go. At one point, I was in the kitchen and I could feel her presence on the counter, where she always used to rest. And then, right before I went to bed, I caught a glimpse of her in the upstairs hallway. She was plump, healthy, and full of energy, and that was when I knew for sure that she was ok.

Spontaneous Spell: For The Passing Of A Beloved Pet

While it's nice to have a perfectly laid out ritual with all your tools on hand, sometimes life throws a curveball at you and you have to make do.

On Easter, we had to put down my anam cara, my Aunt's beloved 18 year old Schnauzer-Poodle mix, Buttons. I grew up with Buttons; it was due to our instant bond that we took her home instead of her sister, Patches. She was my baby, my beloved pet before I was able to own a dog of my very own. There's also a certain irony that she came into my life: like Anpu and Anupet, Buttons was as black as night. Even in my mundane life, I was always watched over by a black canid.

No one was expecting it, least of all me. Sure, she was 18 and moved more stiffly with each passing week. But she was still so full of life that I thought she'd live to see at least 19 or 20. When my poor hysterical Aunt called to tell us the news, it hit me like a sack of bricks. The only thing I could think of was that it was my duty as a Daughter of Anpu, Wepwawet, and Anupet to do everything in my power to ease the pain of Buttons' passing for her and for my family.

I couldn't bring my tools and I was too much in shock to think to bring some prayers from my Book of Shadows, so I winged it: I donned my talismans, anointed myself with some of my magickal oils, and used my very outfit as part of the ritual. I wore a black shirt with a black skirt and boots: black, like the fur of Buttons, black like the land of Kemet, and black like the color of my Jackals. For eyeshadow, I wore silver and lined my eyes with kohl, almost mimicking the Wedjat.

As we brought her to the emergency vet, I was Googling Kemetic akhu prayers on my iPhone and even making up a few of my own, right off the top of my head. Once we were in the room, I began invoking my Gods who dealt with death and dying-Anpu, Manannan Mac Lir, Wesir, Het-Hert, etc and praying for an easy passing for her.

I started petting her and sending energy to her in my attempt to make her transition from this world to the Next as quick and painless as possible. I sent a few prayers to my akhu too, asking them to aide Buttons on her journey and to welcome her with open arms.

I held on as they put the IV in, and whatever I'd been doing, this spontaneous ritual…it helped. One moment she was here, and the next, I reached out to sense her energy, and she was gone.

When we got back to my house, the first thing I did was to find a picture of Buttons and place her on the Ancestor Alter in my living room, and over the course of the next few days, I wrote a series of poems in her honor and to thank my Gods for Their help in my spontaneous ritual.

While I pretty much made up this ritual as I went along, I believe that my efforts did help: that night, as I was falling asleep, I bolted upright because I could swear I felt Buttons nuzzle my knee. I'd like to think it was her way of thanking me for what I did.

Sometimes, the best and most effective rituals are one borne out of spontaneity, need, strong emotions, and some energy work.