Discussing the situation with the social worker, I was told that, "it was only a dog....you can't really call it bereavement." Oh really?
I'm reminded of some words of C.S. Lewis from The four loves, quoted in Paul Miller's superb new book, A loving life,
There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to be sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no-one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully around with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless-it will change. It will not be broken, it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable...The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.