The grief and pain that BBC Radio 1 presenter Greg James described after his beloved chocolate labrador, Barney, was put to sleep felt all too familiar.

Towards the end of June my dog, Lara, also died. She too was put to sleep. I was devastated.

Lara was – apart from when she rolled in mud – a bright white furry bundle of Westie joy who had just turned 11.

I naively thought she would go on forever, and not once did it cross my mind she might become unwell. But towards the end of April, she did.

Lara’s condition meant she was sleeping a lot and began to lose her appetite. At times she seemed unsure of where she was, and eventually she lost her zest for life.

As her quality of life declined, I couldn’t bear the thought of Lara being alone, so for two and a half months I slept on the sofa to be close to her.

In her final weeks Lara was pampered. Dog treats, favourite foods, washes and blow dries at home, endless love and attention.

Just before I took her to the vet for the final time, she savoured an ice-cream and lay on the grass in the sunshine in the garden. It was one of those hot June days.

At the vet, the last thing Lara heard before she died was how loved she was.

It was one of the most difficult days of my life. I cried and cried.

It took me a while to move Lara’s food bowl, and I felt guilty when I did. I also struggled over the agonising decision I’d made to put her to sleep, even though I knew it was the kindest thing for her. I still wrestle with this today.

My experience, and that of Greg James, got me thinking about how we view pet bereavement and grief. For some it can be an isolating experience.

“It can be quite lonely… with society not understanding the impact it has,” says Annalisa de Carteret, a pet loss support manager at animal charity Blue Cross. It says its free and confidential telephone helpline, email and web chat service helped more than 30,000 people last year.

The death of a pet can lead to a flood of emotions, de Carteret says, not least guilt.

“What could I have done differently? Especially with euthanasia. Was it the right time? Did I leave it too late? Did I make the decision too soon?”

Feeling guilt is “natural” according to Dr Caroline Ficker, a palliative vet who says she was “knocked for six” after her own dog Brodie died.

“We’re responsible for their medical treatment, whether they do get treatment or they don’t get treatment,” Ficker says, “so there’s often a lot of guilt associated with that – and that’s normal.”

It’s as a result of this responsibility, de Carteret says, that for some people losing a pet can hurt more than losing a person they love.

Gemma Champ, a writer from north London, rescued her cat Frankie as a kitten 17 years ago, when she lived in Abu Dhabi. Frankie died at home in January, and at first she felt “ridiculous for making such a fuss”.

“I sent out a WhatsApp to all who’d known and loved him – and it turned out everyone had amazing memories of him. He wasn’t just a cat. One friend said it was like ‘a legendary beast from the great plains has left us.’

“We can see from social media that there’s a whole community of people out there who have gone through the same experience and the same pain, so you don’t feel like you’re just being a drama queen – I think that’s definitely how it would have been seen years ago.”

After Greg James’ dog died, the presenter said he wouldn’t be on his show the next day. But getting employers to agree to this isn’t always easy.

In 2019, Emma McNulty’s 14-year-old terrier Millie died suddenly. Feeling sick with grief, McNulty, from Glasgow, said she was too upset to go into work. Unable to find someone to cover her shift, she said her part-time job in a sandwich shop was terminated. She then launched an online petition asking for employers to recognise pet bereavement.

No country mandates that employers offer paid time off after the death of a pet. Kara Stott, head of in-house legal and general counsel at law firm Peninsula, said more UK employers were starting to show flexibility with workers whose pets had died, even if a change to the law does not appear imminent.

But introducing formal pet bereavement policies has its challenges, Stott tells the BBC.

“Points to consider include how do you define a pet – does the policy just cover cats and dogs or would hamsters, rabbits, goldfish, horses, snakes, or other animals be included?”

Gemma, who is freelance, took a few days off work after Frankie’s death, with the support of her “incredibly kind” client. “I doubt I could have done that if I’d been employed,” she says, “and I think I’d have been weeping in the toilets at the office.”

The reaction from friends and family to Frankie’s passing confirmed that her sense of grief was real, she says, and she appreciated that people took it seriously.

“I do think, or hope, that people are learning not to dismiss this very profound and long-lasting relationship so easily.”

It’s now been about six weeks since Lara died.

Each time I open the front door, I still instinctively expect to see her wagging tail. Other days I’ve imagined hearing her drinking water and her footsteps.

Some days I walk past a framed photograph of her and have to look away – I find it too sad.

The grief will, I’m sure, subside in time, but I will always deeply miss her.

Additional reporting by Roland Hughes