I never had to kill my friend before.

Yesterday was a different era for me - visiting Hyde Field and knowing Dude would never be with me at my new home airport. There was a time when people would not expect to see me without Dude, at an airfield and most other places I would go to in my spare time.

It really isn't easy to describe how to make the "end-of-life" decisions regarding a pet. I hope this helps a little.

What Happened

I met Dude when he was about 8 years old. At first I didn't care much for him, but I soon became attached to him. As my marriage was falling apart, my former wife started to bring him by to help brighten my day. Eventually, I moved to Seattle, and she gave him to me. There were few times he wasn't with me, even on a few business trips (if it was appropriate to bring him).

By the end of 2001, he was starting to slow a bit, which is to be expected; by then he was 15, based on the shelter's earlier estimate. Still, he darted off in the sand when I had him at the New Jersey shore (off-season). A mile later he darted off again.

"Where's he going?"
"See that rock over there?"

Dude spotted a large rock someone brought to their property. (Absecon Island is a barrier island, so any rocks were brought in.) Dude knew about beaches from Northern California, and Oregon, where beaches had rocks to climb on.

By 2005 he had considerably slowed -- enough that he couldn't run through the wooded trails where I lived. In 2006, he could no longer climb the 3 steps to enter the house. I boarded him at a veterinary kennel the end of June, in hope that the vet would have a week to observe him while I was at a conference. The next week, Dude looked at me, as if to say, "Do something."

Then I realized I had waited far too long. The vet was closed, so I took him on a last car ride with me to the neighbourhood commercial area. The next morning I took him to the vet's to be euthanatized.

When I lowered him into the ground, I could tell I was just lowering a body which once held the synapses that were once Dude. That place, on the sidewalk strip, was immediately no more than a symbol, like a poem. Before that, he looked almost as if he were asleep; just that I knew it was over for him. He was in a "better place" in the sense that the struggles were over.

My friend was no longer.

When to Decide

As implied by the title, determining to put down a dog or other pet is one of the hardest decisions you'll make. In part, you are dealing with human values related to the meaning of life, and in part the fact is that you are often uncertain as to what the right decision is.

In one sense it's not your life to take; it's your companion animal's life. But that's not exactly true, because in a meaningful sense, his life is yours to decide on. You have made it that way because by caring for him, you have removed some of the natural restraints on longevity.

The reason many of our companion animals live as long as they do is because of the medical and other health care we give them, as well as the protected environment. This can make their lives better, but only if the result isn't a prolonged end-of-life ordeal. If the animal's experience at the end of life is grueling, then what is the point?

In other words, the very reason for the animal living beyond a "natural" lifetime is because of the environment we give it. If we extend the life unnaturally, then the life of the animal is our responsibility, and this includes a peaceful death. It's an obligation.

It's also important not to consider recovery from a serious condition to be a reason to not euthanatize an animal at the end of life. It's not the same even if the end-of-life condition is less severe. The reason for recovery from a serious condition is that you expect the animal (or for that matter a person) to be able to live a meaningful life. If the treatment is not expected to have that effect, then it may be better to say, "enough is enough".

"Curing" Autism

Trying to apply human life values to end-of-life issues with a companion animal is like attempting to "cure" autism.

There are people who wish to "cure autism" in their children (or other loved one). The problem is that autism is a personality, and if they "cured" the autism, they'd have a different child. As is the case with "curing autism", if it were otherwise for Dude (i.e., if he could live for another 5 years), he wouldn't be a dog; he'd be something else.

Love your dog for what he is -- a dog who should enjoy a dog's life. Don't be sad when it's time for your companion to go. If you need to euthanatize him, consider that the other alternatives are nature's way of death, or prolonging his life unnecessarily. If you prolong your companion's life through discomfort, what have you accomplished?

How to Decide

First, I think it's important to not apply human values to other beings. A dog's life is meaningful for reasons we observe in dogs. I can't judge how happy a human is in some end-of-life circumstances, but it seems clear that prolonged "convalescent" care is not suitable for a dog.

In an obtuse way this is in agreement with those who say, "it's just an animal", but there is a reason for this. If we consider how we define humanness, we can describe the sort of things that allow theological people to describe the "soul". The "soul" is an embodiment of the values we ascribe to the human spirit. For this reason animals don't have souls -- at least not human souls. Theirs are the cognizant animal souls. They must be valued for what we can determine are their characteristics. (If this seems too philosophical, just ignore it.)

So in essence, I decided Dude's a dog, and a dog is an animal (meaning a being) with 4 legs that barks and has a natural lifetime of perhaps 7 years. (According to Wikipedia, those Wolves who reach maturity generally live between 6 and 9 years in the wild.) Dude was 18 to 20 years old, so he really couldn't continue to live in any meaningful way.

Things to Look for

A friend said that it's time, "when it's not fun anymore." This clearly means "fun" for the animal to live, but since fun tends to be reciprocal, your own fun with him is a strong clue.

So here are some things I noticed:

Excitement from daily life is gone.

Is the walk "fun" for him?

"It's not convenient" to keep your companion because of health reasons.

There's a tendency to think that if it's not convenient to care for your friend, you are terminating his life for your own convenience. Consider that if it's not convenient for you, the companion animal may also be finding life unsuitable.

Your pet enjoys things mostly from memory.

You notice he reacts to something and realize that he's doing so because of what he associates with the past.

He tries to do things he used to enjoy, but it seems the only reason he tries is to please you.

He is no longer able to do things he used to enjoy.

The Practicalities

First, there are economic factors. This ranges from pet cemeteries, to cremations, to "disposing of the pet". I chose to bury Dude because of prior sensitivities. Self-burial (I mean burial at home) is ecological, economical and practical. Check if local ordinances permit this; otherwise you will need to take whatever steps are required to bring your pet home.

I chose a place in front of the house, where later landscaping would not likely intrude. If you can, prepare the ground ahead of time, to remove tree roots, hardpan or whatever local conditions make digging difficult, and then backfill the opening. I also elected not to have a box because of the practicalities of burial. I don't think I would have liked to lower him in a box or take him out of a box. Instead he was lying on his bedding and hospital pad in the same laundry basket I used as a pet carrier to carry him into the vet's. Easing his body down also brought "closure" to seeing him gone.

It seems common to cremate a pet. There is the inevitable cost, but there are people who don't have access to even a small plot of land. It's also possible that some local regulations forbid burial of pets.

I Suppose...

... that next time, it will be a little easier. Or maybe not, because I will want to do it sooner, when the end-of-life issues are less clear-cut.

I also hope that if my time comes slowly, that someone will be willing to pull the plug. If I'm lucky, I'll live in a place where "assisted suicide" is accepted.

But whatever you decide for yourself, please don't let your animal companion linger.

In Memory by Eugene O'Neil, 1940

This poem is found at the bottom of this memorial page. The date is 1940 (the poem; not the webpage), so if it's removed from there, I'm sure it will surface elsewhere on the net.

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