Saying Goodbye: Making the Decision to Euthanize Your Dog

Euthanizing Dobby was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. While the support from friends, family, and the online community was absolutely amazing (and, to be honest, a bit overwhelming), I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that there’s a hole in my life that Dobby used to fill. There are still moments when I’m taken by surprise at his absence, times when I expect to turn around and see him lying on my bed or wriggling with joy in his crate with his ever-present squeaky ball in his mouth.

Photo by Kelvin Andow

Photo by Kelvin Andow

I’ve written before about coping with the loss of a friend. Obviously, I process best by writing, and others grieve in other ways. There’s no wrong way to grieve for your dog, and whatever you feel when you lose a beloved companion is entirely normal and okay. I’ve had to remind myself of this at times when something silly, like a song or an unexpected memory hits me like a punch in the gut and I feel tears well up once again. Grief is a healing process, and just like healing from a physical injury, it takes time for the wound to stop hurting.

There’s a distinct lack of information online about what to expect if you, like me, are put in the heartbreaking position of euthanizing a young dog for health or behavioral concerns. Personally, knowing what to expect during the euthanasia itself was incredibly helpful. Having assisted with and performed multiple euthanasias during my time as a veterinary technician and the head trainer at an animal shelter, I knew what the process would look like and what options were available to me. My hope is that by writing about my experiences, I can help others who are in similar situations. If you are considering euthanasia for your dog, whether your dog is sixteen years or sixteen months, whether your dog is physically healthy but emotionally hurting or simply ready to leave a body that can no longer keep up with his mind, my heart goes out to you.

Over the next month, we’ll discuss several aspects of euthanasia, including how to know when it’s time, scheduling the appointment, what to expect during the procedure itself, special considerations for if you have multiple pets, and thoughts for after it’s done.  Today we’ll discuss how to know when it’s time to say goodbye.

One of the hardest questions I dealt with in Dobby’s final months was knowing when it was time. Logically, I knew that I had exhausted every option and that Dobby wasn’t going to suddenly get better. I knew that he was frequently scared, that I was exhausted from managing his environment to keep him and those around him safe, and that my other dogs were sometimes frightened of him. Emotionally, however, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I talked with him about it, and got a strong sense from him that he did not want to die.

The turning point for me happened one night when Dobby had a seizure. I had tried to trim his nails earlier that evening, something that he used to behave very well for. He would lie upside down, loose as a noodle, ball in his mouth, while I trimmed his toenails. About six months ago, this changed after a series of seizures left him touch sensitive and defensive. Toenail trims became very difficult, and even when I went very patiently and slowly, feeding him after each nail, Dobby would act frightened as soon as I touched his foot. He had never been quicked or had a bad nail-trim experience, but the way he processed tactile stimulation changed due to his seizures.

This particular evening, Dobby screamed and snapped at me with the first nail I trimmed, urinating in fear. I immediately stopped trying to trim his nails, but half an hour later he had a seizure. After his seizure he was scared and confused, and attacked my youngest dog when she bumped him as she jumped up next to him on the couch. When I intervened, he went after me, and it took all of my extensive handling experience to safely move him to a crate where he could sleep off the effects of the seizure in peace.

As I looked at him, curled up in a protective, frightened ball in his crate, I got a very strong sense that he was ready to go. I got the feeling that it was too hard for him to continue living in a body where small stresses could cause so much pain, and that he was exhausted from living this way. I made his euthanasia appointment the next day.

Your story will likely be different. In many cases, veterinarians tell owners that they will just know when it’s time, and sometimes, like with Dobby, that’s true. However, you may also not know. It’s okay if you feel doubtful or unsure. It’s a big decision to make, and I think doubt is an entirely normal response to making such a huge choice for your dog and your family.

Many of my clients who euthanize their dogs for behavioral reasons do so when they do not feel that they can keep others safe from their dog or when they feel that their dog’s quality of life is so poor that it is not fair to ask them to continue living. In Dobby’s case, I kept a journal where I tracked his good days, his bad days, and his seizures with the thought that when his bad days outnumbered his good days it might be time, but the journal was ultimately not the deciding factor. When I reviewed his final month, he had an equal number of good and bad days, and had an average of one seizure very 5-6 days.

Sometimes it can be helpful to think of factors that will help you make the decision ahead of time, way before you’re faced with the decision. Some people advise making a list of five of your dog’s favorite activities. When your dog is no longer interested in three of those five activities, that might be the appropriate time. I’ve decided that with Layla, it will be time to consider euthanasia when she’s no longer interested in eating, chewing on bones, going on walks, going places with me, or chasing critters.

Regardless of how you come to the decision, I can say that I have never heard anyone say that they wish they had waited. I have, however, heard many, many people say that they wish they had said goodbye sooner. If your dog is in pain (whether physical or emotional) and you cannot help them manage that pain, it may be a great kindness to say goodbye.

As hard as it was to euthanize Dobby, I regret waiting so long. Looking back, I feel like I made exactly the right decision – I personally needed to feel like I’d tried everything, and until the night of his seizure I got a strong sense from Dobby that he wasn’t ready to give up either. However, his final months were certainly much harder than the previous years, and he was often confused or disoriented due to the brain damage from his seizures. My other dogs also had a difficult few months, as Dobby could be unpredictable and aggressive. Making the decision sooner could have saved all of us from a lot of stress, but I find a lot of comfort in having exhausted all available options. There are no “what ifs” in my situation – they were all explored completely.

Regardless of your situation, knowing when to say goodbye is a very personal decision. If you’ve made this choice for a dog you cared for, how did you come to your conclusion? What did you consider, or did you just know when the time was right? Please share your experiences in the comments section below.

169 responses to “Saying Goodbye: Making the Decision to Euthanize Your Dog

  1. Thank you for sharing.. I am grieving so much… my elderly dog had a sudden grandmal seizure late at night.. no vet in town.. had to go 40 min away .. I was not knowledgeable about seizures in pets. After lab work dr. Just said he thought it might be diabetic but leave him for few days to see before they could give him meds. I did not want to leave my baby in a strange place where he would be scared… plus 350 nite for et cate there. I started home and my baby had another seizure and I went back to vet and decided to allow him to help let my baby go. As an after research thought.. In my opinion I think my baby might have lived longer with med management. Dunno! I wish I hadn’t done it then. I grieve feeling like I killed the most precious thing I loved! Would love to have him with me at least a while longer!!! The loss is horrible, my best friend and companion !!

    • I’m so sorry, Deanna.

      It will take a long time for your guilt to ease and the realisation that you did what was best for your friend at the time to sink in.

      It’s a cliche but time IS a great healer.

      I posted about my experience on here 7 years ago and, whilst I still think about Sam every day, I have been able to live with myself, for the decision that I made, for a long time.

      If you need to cry, cry. If you need time away from others, take it so that you can grieve in the best way for you x

  2. We had to put our Millie down because of seizures and aggression. She was only 9 months old, we had her only 3 weeks when she had 3 Grand mal seizures within a few hours. We took her to a specialist at a great deal of cost. She was on three medications twice a day. When she wasn’t having a seizure she was a fun loving dog. After 6 months of the first seizure she stabilized or at least we thought. She started having partial seizures, sometimes two a day. They wanted to put her on a fourth medication, but we decided not too. Put her down was very traumatic for us because we lost another dog just two months prior to getting Millie, Maxine had cancer. We had her put down the day before Thanksgiving and to this day I feel the guilt.

  3. My baby girl mitci was put the rest Friday after a long six months battle after being diagnosed with epilepsy. Medication didn’t work. I feel that my vet’s could have done more to help. After the long hard nights where she would have fit after fit she became very weak and would eat. She would of been only 8 years old. STAFFIE..
    Her seizures took all her life of her with just a blink of an eye. It’s hard as I done everything in my power to get no where. I then new my baby girl would have to rest. Never seen my girl in such a state. I tried telling my vet’s. But all they seemed to do was put her Medication up and bloods all the time for 6 months later no more mitci… mmmmm everything always came back OK..
    Don’t understand and probably never will… broken heart 💔

  4. My baby girl mitci was put the rest Friday after a long six months battle after being diagnosed with epilepsy. Medication didn’t work. I feel that my vet’s could have done more to help. After the long hard nights where she would have fit after fit she became very weak and wouldn’t eat. She would of been only 8 years old. STAFFIE..
    Her seizures took all her life of her with just a blink of an eye. It’s hard as I done everything in my power to get no where. I then new my baby girl would have to rest. Never seen my girl in such a state. I tried telling my vet’s. But all they seemed to do was put her Medication up and bloods all the time for 6 months later no more mitci… mmmmm everything always came back OK..
    Don’t understand and probably never will… broken heart 💔

  5. Pingback: What Are The Options For Dogs With Aggression? - Aggressive Dog

  6. Thank you for sharing. My boy Dixon had his 5th grand mal seizure last night lasting over 10 minutes. He has been on Keppra since Dec with little control. I got in touch with a vet that will come to the house to put him down tomorrow. It is hard to say goodbye, but I would rather lose him peacefully now than make him suffer any longer. He has been through so much over the past two years with glaucoma, arthritis, double enucleation surgery, IVDD, kidney diseases, and IBD. He is acting extra sweet sitting on my lap as I try not to cry during a virtual staff meeting. However hard it is, knowing I can release him before any undo suffering is the biggest gift I give. Plus with so many stomach issues, it will be a pleasure to see his last moments of happiness eating fast food and cookies.

  7. Today I euthanized my poodle of 13 years old—the most devastating decision. I have cried forever with great pain in my heart. It took me a while because I could not let go. She lost the ability to walk and stand suddenly!! Suddenly. She was also in chronic renal failure, which was well managed for the years. The paralysis of all extremities was sudden after a gran mal seizure. Medications were making her kidney worse. She looked sad and used pampers because she could not squat to pee or poo. The love I had for my Princess was so real, as having a daughter. She was so bright and in tune with humans. The decision left me empty, devastated, and guilty, even though I did all I could for her. Treatments and medicine didn’t help, and she looked so sad. I was standing there seeing the Vet. Injecting the shots and seeing her death was an experience indeed. During that process, I could talk to her, embrace her, and be there for her. She is gone, and my house feels so empty, missing her barking and her big eyes. It is not an easy thing to do. The medical options when I took her today to the Vet were not going to correct her paralysis. That defined the decision. She was too active before to make her suffer by not being able to move at all. Still, I am not happy with my decision, but it was all I could do for her, for the great years she made me so happy. It is Heartbreaking. Will take me a long time to recuperate as I miss my Princess a great deal.

  8. My little Teacup Pomeranian was not ready to go. Mitzy had a shocking cough and they said a collapsed trachea. But that was when she was 4….she was now 15…..the vet had been giving her steroid injections over the past 9 months. He said it wouldn’t keep her alive for long… was 9 months. Mitzy couldn’t walk far due to rheumatism, so I got her a doggy pram. How she loved that pram and her walks! But the cough…..she would cough with any sign of me being upset, if she got excited, if she choked. I had to watch her throughout the night to make sure she was still breathing…if she’d stopped I’d pick her up and she’d take a huge breath in….one night she started to choke a ND it got progressively worse..until she was exhausted laying on the bed, and grunting every exhaled breath…. .she couldn’t breathe. I called the vet. He said he could try more steroids, but she was exhausted. When he gave her the sedative before euthanasia in her neck, she growled and I knew he’d hurt her. I hugged her and she settled, and looked so peaceful. Then he gave her the euthanasia injection, and she was gone.
    I keep wonif I did the right thing…the house is as empty as my heart, and that is in pieces. I cannsgift this depression, and I don’t really care if I die. She was all I had. I’m disabled but she never left my side. My world, my little dog. She was genuinely so bright still. Idk if I made the right decision. I wish I’d waited to get s econd opinion….I’m so sorry…it isn’t getting easier…in fact, it gets worse. I don’t really care if I die now. I’d never hurt myself, but I am finding no point without her…

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