Soul Tails: Walking Beside Them

By PJ Valenciano

The past weeks have been heavy with grief. In just two weeks, I lost Hailey and Lolo Panchee, and suddenly, this morning, August 31, 2025, I had to say goodbye to Inigo, a 6–7-month-old cat who found his way to me, like so many others do. Each life carries its own story, its own presence, and its departure leaves a mark that lingers. Inigo was confident, fuzzy, and insistent on being present. He followed me everywhere, meowing and asserting his personality. His life was short but full of love, and his passing reminded me of the fragility and brilliance of life. Saying goodbye brought grief, but also gratitude for having fully shared his time and connected deeply with him.

Petal, my tortie, passed on the same day. I thanked her in spirit, honoring her life and trusting her instincts. Each moment, each connection, becomes a practice of conscious presence.

AND I thought-- wow, The Garden of Eternal Whiskers is waiting for them--- my lovely kittens who passed will welcome them. That thought alone gives me peace to think that Fatima, Dalum, Nabe, and the rest are waiting. 

Lolo Panchee, a senior cat who had been neglected, passed peacefully after receiving care. Being present with him the day before his passing allowed me to honor him fully, embracing grief as inseparable from love.

Hailey reminds me of the inevitability of mortality. Witnessing her decline, even when I could not prevent it, taught me how to love fully while releasing attachment. Grief becomes a teacher, guiding me to boundaries, acceptance, and reflection.

Loss is raw. It is exhausting, frustrating, and at times, angering. And yet, even amid grief, there is a deeper learning: a reflection on love, presence, and the way life flows through us. Being with animals is not about doing everything or “saving lives.” It is about walking beside them, witnessing their presence, and offering love in its most conscious, intentional form. 

Grace, a good friend who herself is surrounded by beautiful cats, reminded me, anger often cushions grief. The two are inseparable: the rawness of emotion is natural, necessary, and real.

The lessons… 

The people who have walked alongside me in this journey have offered perspectives that help me see beyond immediate sorrow. And I think, for me, it was beyond sorrow-- it was a questioning-- Is this where I should be? Why would animals come to me to just die? Is this really my calling? 

Sheila reminded me that life is not about fixing every hardship or preventing loss. Repeated patterns of responsibility and grief are not signs of failure; they are opportunities to pause, reflect, and shift how we approach life. We are here to learn, to teach, and to experience joy, even while witnessing suffering.

David helped me understand the delicate balance between passion and attachment. Animals are drawn to love and presence, sensing when someone can witness, honor, and hold space for them. Yet attachment can drain us if unchecked. Developing dispassion, being fully present without clinging to outcomes, allows love to flow freely and grief to exist without consuming us. Rituals of presence and farewell help honor lives as they transition.

Mavic, my best friend, offered grounding faith: some things are beyond our control. God is in charge, and each life has a purpose known to the universe. Trusting that plan allows us to release the need to control outcomes while still holding space for love.

Ghary keeps reminding me that love is measured not by the length of life but by the depth of connection. Even brief lives reveal the capacity of the heart to give, LOVE, nurture, and witness joy and sorrow alike.

Gerard, my life partner,  encouraged me to see the bigger picture: while each death is painful, the number of lives touched, nurtured, and witnessed far outweighs the losses. Reflection on impact keeps perspective, preventing overwhelm and despair. His ultimate question: "What can you do now, moving forward?"

Through these insights, the lesson emerges clearly: walking beside animals is not about heroism or duty, it’s conscious love. It is about honoring life as it unfolds, embracing joy and sorrow, and allowing grief to coexist with love.

To walk beside them means…

Being present with animals is not about endless action or “fixing” problems. It is about showing up fully, being aware, offering love, and embracing the rawness of life. Animals are intelligent, resilient, and aware. Their trust is sacred, and walking beside them is both a privilege and a responsibility.

The world of stray and rescue animals is heavy: abandoned puppies, kittens left alone, neglected cats struggling to survive. Witnessing this reality is raw, even painful. Yet every moment of connection, such as feeding a kitten, patting a senior cat, observing a dog’s joy in a simple walk, is for me, sacred. 

Every insight I have received interweaves into the practice of walking beside animals.

To LOVE is opening to grief, but it doesn’t mean it is no longer LOVE. Grief teaches humility and depth. Presence honors life in all its fleeting, messy, and beautiful moments. Each life witnessed, each connection formed, is a testament to the heart’s capacity to love fully.

Loss reminds us to grow stronger so the animals we walk beside are not burdened with our unresolved pain. Every life shared, every connection formed, every moment of being fully present shows the depth of the heart.

LOVE binds us. Grief humbles us. Anger shapes awareness. Presence honors life in all its fleeting, raw, and beautiful moments. Walking beside animals transforms both them and us, revealing the sacredness of connection and the depth of humanity.

For those who have lost a pet, let this reflection serve as a gentle reminder: grief is part of love, love is eternal, and the moments you shared continue to ripple through your heart.

Even after they are gone, their presence shapes your life, teaches your heart, and reminds you of the extraordinary capacity to love.