What To Do When Your Dog is Dying 🐾

Practical advice for navigating terminal illness, caregiving, and end-of-life decisions

We recently said goodbye to our wire-haired Jack Russell Terrier, Walter.

We made the difficult decision to facilitate his passing with euthanasia following a bladder cancer diagnosis and 18-months of increasingly demanding caregiving.

While there were many moments over the past 18-months that were wonderful, I felt completely unprepared to navigate the complex emotions and stress of caring for a terminally ill pet and, ultimately, having to choose a humane death through euthanasia.

This is the information I wish I’d had at the beginning of it…

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How to Navigate this Guide 🧭

I tried to arrange things chronologically based on information that is helpful at the beginning versus the end.

I’ve written the guide from the perspective of losing my dog, but I think you could easily substitute ‘cat’, ‘rabbit’, ‘horse’…whatever your companion of choice may be.

I lost my dog after a prolonged and terminal illness. Losing your dog suddenly, tragically, or due to old age can be an entirely different experience. I hope you are able to take what feels helpful but encourage you to seek support from people with a shared experience.

Our Situation 🐾

After a sudden onset of symptoms that we assumed were kidney stones or a bladder infection, an ultrasound in October of 2022 revealed a large mass inside Walter’s bladder. It was positioned in a spot that was not yet impacting his digestion or ability to pass urine, but the tumor extended through the wall of his bladder, rendering it inoperable.

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By tracking the tumor’s rate of growth over 6 months, we were told it would likely reach a size that would kill him by May of 2024. However, the tumor’s increasing size and positioning also put him at risk of a sudden rupture, which would require emergency euthanasia.

As the months progressed, he required increasing bathroom breaks each day. Going from 4-5 hour stretches, to 3-4, to 2-3, and finally, in the final week’s of his life, down to 60-90 minutes.

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Being outside with him became taxing, as he became increasingly fixated on peeing. This excessive urination and straining to pee was an extreme source of stress and anxiety, as we knew he was risking a rupture, but it also just became pretty difficult to walk him because he was so distracted.

In the final months of his life, the tumor began to impact his bowels. And in the final weeks, we weren’t able to leave the house without a bag of supplies (baby wipes, water, towels) because he was straining so much too pass urine that it often resulted in diarrhea.

Overall it had become a very stressful, anxiety-inducing situation for us. His symptoms meant that it was becoming increasingly difficult to spend extended periods of time outside with him — making many of his favorite things (long walks, picnics, time in the hammock, camping) no longer possible.

We knew that his life would likely end one of two ways:

1. Urgent Euthanasia: The tumor would, eventually, rupture. This would mean a potentially stressful trip via train to the nearest 24-hour pet hospital if it happened after hours. It might mean that we weren’t both able to be present. And it might mean he was scared and in pain.

2. Planned Euthanasia: We could pick a date for our farewell, which would ensure we were both there with him. To have it done in our home with the vet he was familiar with, and we could do a slow, 3-step euthanasia process versus the common 2-step process (more about that below).

It was not an easy decision to make, especially because aside from the frequent bathroom breaks he was very happy and seemed comfortable. If we were indoors, you really couldn’t tell anything was wrong. We made the decision to move forward with euthanasia in early April and set the date for April 24th, 2024.

Your Final Gift 🎁

Culturally we tend to romanticize end of life and, mostly due to religion, see it as a necessary duty to nurse someone through the final stages toward a “natural” death even when that means watching them live for months or years with a very low quality of life. If there is one thing I am incredibly grateful for, it’s that even though our society demands we treat our children, parents, and other beloved humans like this — it doesn’t force us to subject our pets to that level of inhumane treatment.

I recognized this for the gift that it was. I loved Walter with all my heart. And the final gift I could give him was a life that only knew joy, happiness, and comfort.

Quality of Life Includes Your Quality of Life 🧡

Dogs are generally working animals. If your dog isn’t a service pet, a herding farm dog, or otherwise utilized for a specific skill — then the only job they know is making you happy.

When they age or fall ill, their caregiving needs will increase. As their “person” it is, of course, your duty to care for them. This is part of the contract we agree to when we get a dog. It could include months or even years of tedious caregiving.

But here’s the thing — and I think it’s the “thing” that our society ignores and a lot of people don’t consider…

There will come a point where your dog will recognize the burden they are putting on you. Since their only job has been making you happy — they are sensitive to changes in your mood and know when you aren’t as happy as you once were.

This can be really difficult for a dog who considers keeping you happy to be their mission in life! Some dogs may even exhibit symptoms of depression (disinterest, lethargy, not eating) when they feel like they are no longer fulfilling their purpose.

So it’s important that when you calculate your pet’s quality of life, you factor your own quality of life into the equation — because your ability to receive happiness from your pet will directly impact your pet’s happiness and therefore, their quality of life.

It is not selfish to recognize that the increasing demands of caregiving are negatively impacting your mental health, physical health, or ability to work or function the way you need to…all of which can impact your happiness.

If you find yourself feeling resentment or frustration toward your dog, that is a good sign that they may also be starting to feel like a burden without a purpose, and guiding your dog through the final months of their life compassionately means not subjecting them to the guilt of burdening you.

Trust Yourself 👏🏻

How long you are able to endure extensive caregiving will depend on a lot of things: support systems, work schedules, disposable income, housing type and other circumstances. These things are all going to be unique to you and might fluctuate.

When reflecting on our experience, I know we would have been forced to make a difficult decision much sooner if not for our work flexibility. And that other factors might have allowed us to be with him longer. A yard of our own, for example, might have made a difference of weeks or months.

Certain privileges play a role in our experience with pet loss, which isn’t fair but is a reality.

So while you can seek advice on the internet or from well-intentioned friends, ultimately only you know all the details of your situation and how it impacts your ability to give your pet the most comfortable life and dignified death. Being aware of the role privilege may play in your experience is better than being blindsided, oblivious, or bitter about it. Your circumstances are your own. Do the best you can.

Write Down Your Reasoning ✍🏻

Once you make the decision and set a date, write a letter to yourself detailing the reasons for your decision. There will inevitably be ups and downs, and you might try to talk yourself out of it (more than once). Having a concrete, logical reminder of why you made the decision can be an important resource in those moments where your emotions try to take over.

Making the Decision Can Be a Gift to Both of You ⏰

There was a point when I realized I was in a thick fog (maybe a bit of a depression). Looking back now, I can see how I became withdrawn and increasingly anxious. Not knowing how long life “might be like this”, can feel like a caregiving tunnel with no end. I had started going through the motions just to get Walter through each day. I didn’t feel present or grateful and knew Walter wasn’t getting the best version of me.

I also had to recognize that I was being selfish. I knew there was tremendous pain waiting for me on the other side of losing him, and my natural reaction was to avoid that pain — obviously! We owe it to our pets to recognize this human weakness. Every additional day I kept him here, trying to protect myself from that pain, I increased his risk of a sudden and painful death.

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Once we were able to make the decision to pursue euthanasia and put a date on the calendar, the fog immediately started to lift. Knowing exactly how much time we had left together helped me see clearly and commit to making the absolute most of every single second.

I know that had we nursed Walter through a slow and potentially painful decline I would have stayed trapped in that state of depression and anxiety. I would have continued going through the motions, getting him from one day to the next, rather than being able to ensure that our final weeks together were filled with love, laughter, and good times. I know that would have left me with tremendous regret.

Anticipatory Grief 😥

This is the one that really punched me in the face on a weekly basis.

Anticipatory grief is the distress a person feels in the days, months, or even years before the death of a loved one¹.

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While anticipatory grief is really difficult, it can help you begin processing the loss, potentially easing the pain when they pass. Knowing this helped me feel like it was something I’d have to navigate eventually, so I might as well get it over with. Things that I found helpful were:

• Learning as much as I could about what we could expect and what the end might be like (I share a detailed account of our experience below, if you’d find this helpful).

• Not putting life entirely on hold. While it wasn’t easy for us to both travel at the same time, or leave the house for more than 2-3 hours, we did our best to take turns traveling and plan activities that could be done with Walter or with short outings.

• Create special moments and document them. It can feel impossible to feel like you don’t know when the end is coming, so I tried to have “Quality Time” with Walter several times a week. No matter what it was, I’d try to document it with a photo so that I knew we were being present and intentional with our time, even when we were in the thick of it.

• Knowing our time together was limited, I became really intentional with how I was spending it. I stopped listening to headphones while walking him so that I could hear all the little sounds he made. I stayed entirely off Facebook for the better part of a year. I drastically reduced the amount of time I was spending on Instagram. I’m so grateful for this looking back — not only because I feel confident that it helped me be so much more present at the end of his life, but it also gave me the lasting gift of not relying so much on those apps to feel fulfilled or connected.

Disenfranchised Grief 🤨

There’s really no socially acceptable “blueprint” for pet loss like what we have for human loss (obituary, wake, funeral, eulogy, memorials) and that means people in our life are often unsure how to interpret our grief or offer support.

Disenfranchised grief occurs when the grief you are feeling is not supported by society or recognized as legitimate. Also known as hidden grief or sorrow, disenfranchised grief is often not acknowledged, validated, or understood.².

This one made the entire experience harder, because along with the stress + grief, I was also doing mental gymnastics to make my grief “socially acceptable” instead of feeling free to struggle and grieve the way I would for any human family member.

I think there are a lot of ways you can choose to navigate this — I found it most helpful to:

• Know that plenty of research supports that the love and connection I had for Walter was just as strong as human-to-human connections (more in this article). Pet grief is valid and real.

• Model how I *think* society should support people experiencing pet loss. I stepped away when I needed. Spoke publicly about what we were facing and documented our heartbreak and loss. I took a week of bereavement from work.

• Seek support from people who more closely understood exactly what I was experiencing.

Start a Caregiving Google Doc 📃

When you have an aging or terminally ill pet, their needs can change frequently and you may soon find that getting a dog sitter is difficult because of the increasing needs.

My advice is to start a Google Doc right at the beginning so that you can easily add or edit it when things change, and can easily send it to caregivers in advance so they have time to review it and ask questions.

My tutorial for creating an SOP Doc in Google Docs can be a great resource for building this.

Tell Your Dog What’s Happening 💬

This might seem so strange but in the week’s following our farewell *this* is the thing I have been the most grateful for doing. It felt awkward in the moment but I reflect on it all the time.

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In the days or weeks before the appointment, start explaining to your dog what is happening, (Ex. “You’re sick and aren’t able to do all the things you love to do. This is our last week together, but we’re going to have a lot of fun.” “Today is going to be our last day together. The vet is going to come this afternoon and give you medicine that will end your life. You won’t feel any pain and we’ll be here with you.”).

Somehow this makes it feel less like something you are “doing to them” and more like something you are “doing for them and with them”.

Make a Bucket List ☑

This is something I am so glad we were able to do, and in my opinion, is a great reason to choose humane and dignified death for your pet — so you can assure that they are in a condition that allows them to enjoy all their favorite things one last time.

We used the Microsoft To-Do App to create a list, and integrated screenshots into Instagram posts (shown on slide two in the post below) when we crossed an item off.

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Have a Memory Night 🎬

If this would be fun for you (rather than super sad or stressful), I highly recommend it. We set aside a night during our final week together and just sat on the couch, sharing our favorite photos and videos of Walter (we cast them to our TV using a Chromecast but you could use your phone, laptop etc.). We told him all of our favorite stories and really just expressed our gratitude for all the amazing memories he gave us.

Cuddle Blanket 🤗

A few weeks before our farewell, I washed one of our favorite blankets and started using it with Walter. If he was napping on the couch I put it over him. We took it on picnics. Used it in the hammock. After he was gone, I slept with it every night and it was, and still is, such a comfort.

3-Step Euthanasia 3️⃣

Euthanasia is most commonly a 2-step process — one shot of sedative followed by a lethal dose of pentobarbital (usually administered via IV). After consulting with our vet, we chose a 3-step euthanasia process. The additional step involves administering a sedative (our vet prescribed Meprobamate) to your pet an hour before the euthanasia appointment. They are still conscious, but are very relaxed and calm.

We chose this because Walter had developed a strong aversion to the vet and the vet’s office, since most of his appointments now included multiple shots, sedation, and ultrasounds. We wanted to avoid having his final moments filled with fear, or a situation where he panicked and we were forced to restrain him.

His Last Day 🌸

On Walter’s last day we woke up early in the morning. We put him in the cargo bike and took him to Kastellet, a fortress built along the sea on the north side of Copenhagen. In April, it is filled with Cherry Blossom trees in full bloom. Walter walking below the blooming trees with their pink petals slowly falling around him felt like a movie scene. That will likely always be locked in my memory.

Walter walking among the Cherry Blossom petals on his last morning.

Then we took him out for breakfast at one of our favorite spots and after a sunny, mid-morning nap on the couch we packed up the cargo bike again and hung our hammock up at the botanical garden for the afternoon. The ride home was Walter’s last bike ride through the city and although I had planned to film it, I decided to just soak it up.

At-home Euthanasia 🩺

In the weeks leading up to Walter’s death I scoured the internet for detailed accounts of what it’s like to put your dog to sleep. How long does it take? Will they make any noise? Are there specific supplies we should have? Honestly, I couldn’t find much, so I want to include a somewhat detailed account of what it was like. Feel free to skip this if it doesn’t feel helpful.

The process went like this:

3PM - We had been out all day, so Walter was tired and quickly fell asleep with us on the couch. After a bit, we woke him up and gave him the 2 tablets of Meprobamate, which is a light sedative. He fell back asleep laying across my lap on our couch.

4PM - The vet arrived, and after a brief conversation she explained that the first shot would be administered into the fat at the back of his neck. He was conscious enough during this to realize someone new was in the apartment, but he didn’t get up or seem disturbed by the vet’s arrival. I held him in my arms with his head on my left so the vet could get the access she needed. This took about 10-15 minutes to kick in, and was the same sedative he had been given numerous times for his ultrasounds, although it was a higher dose (she said she administered enough for a 40 lb dog, and he was 25 lbs).

4:15 PM - After roughly 15 minutes, the vet checked Walter’s pupils to ensure he was deeply sedated. She then explained that the final shot (pentobarbital) would be administered via IV through his front right leg. At this point we put a waterproof pad (the vet provided it) under me on the couch and also had a blanket around Walter that we could wash afterward. I had the “cuddle blanket” laying over the top of him so it didn’t risk being soiled.

I adjusted to sit a bit sideways so he was lying across my lap but with his legs forward toward the edge of the couch. Sitting on the ottoman in front of us, the vet shaved a small spot on his front-right leg (didn’t know that would need to happen) and inserted an IV. This fluid was blue, which kind of caught me off-guard, and there was a lot of it. She explained that she would be administering it slowly over the course of 2-3 minutes, and that his breathing and heart rate would slow and eventually stop.

I think it only took about a minute before I felt him take his last breath. The vet continued to slowly administer the fluid until the vile was empty, which took a couple of additional minutes. Afterward, she listened for a heartbeat, checked his pupils again, and pronounced him dead. Walter did not make any noise, flinch, or lose control of his bladder or bowels during the process but it is possible that those things happen and is good to be prepared for.

The last photo of the three of us. Taken before the vet arrived.

In the 12 years Walter was with us he taught me so much about how to live, how to love, and ultimately, how to die.

In many ways, shepherding a life out of this world seems similar to shepherding a life into it. There will be pain and sadness, but that doesn’t have to be all-consuming.

I look back at the experience with such profound gratitude, awe, and even joy. I’d love to know that my life would end the same way — spending a week with my favorite people doing my favorite things. Coming home to a sunny spot on the couch and falling asleep in their arms. No fear, no pain, no regrets.

Afterward 💔

The feeling of walking Walter’s body to the vet’s car and returning to our empty apartment was really hard.

We had agreed in advance that we wanted to go through his things and kind of reset our home so that we weren’t constantly caught off-guard by his belongings in every room. So after a quick happy hour at our favorite sunny spot along the canal and a toast to our boy, we got started on that.

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You might feel differently about this and not feel ready right away, but I thought of it as ripping off a Band-Aid. It needed to be done eventually, and there was nothing that was going to make it easier next week or next month.

I knew that if I left his things out, I would be caught off-guard multiple times a day and that would be really hard.

And honestly it kind of felt like sorting through photo boxes after you lose a grandparent — an opportunity to process your emotions, come to terms with them being gone, and recognize that your life is going to be different.

There were things we wanted to keep as keepsakes — his favorite toy, his collar. We put those up on our mantel along with a portrait of him

And there were practical things we kept in case we decide to get another dog eventually — his crate, his dishes. We stored them up in the attic of our building.

We got rid of everything else and cleaned up those spaces in our home.

To me this felt right. We kept the important things and gave them a prominent space that felt like we were honoring him, but we also protected our hearts a bit by reducing triggers.

Leave home 💼

Many people encouraged us to leave home for a few days after the farewell, and I think this was solid advice. It was nice to get out of our neighborhood and usual routine and have a few days to reset. However, the empty house and memories were waiting for us when we got home.

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Ultimately, this just delayed the inevitable, but we both agreed that it was nice to have something to turn our attention to as soon as the farewell was over.

My only advice would be to do something that is low-key and low-pressure. You don’t want to be stressing about trip logistics or packing for a trip in your pet’s final days, and honestly the exhaustion from the grief might make it hard to enjoy a packed itinerary.

We flew to Gdansk, Poland (which isn’t far from us) and spent a long weekend mostly doing what we’d have done at home: went out for coffee, played cards, took long walks. Keep your expectations low with the only goal to distract yourself for a couple of days.

And a side note: it was nice to come home and know that his bed, dishes, toys, etc. had already been removed so it felt like coming back to a fresh start. If you do plan to leave home, I recommend doing the initial clean-up before you leave.

Evaluate Where Your Feelings Are Coming From 😢

We connect a lot of negative feelings and emotions to euthanasia because of religious beliefs or the way society sometimes frames it. As I mentioned earlier, we tend to romanticize end of life, and ending it early or “unnaturally” can be seen as an “execution” or even a “sin” rather than what it is — a choice that we should all be able to make, to die comfortably and with dignity.

Not sure I can explain this in an eloquent way that makes sense, but when I find myself really sad or upset, I ask myself “What is this rooted in?” 99.9% of the time it’s rooted in something that I don’t even support or believe in.

If I’m totally honest, I have a simplistic view of life and death. We’re here, we do the best we can, and then we’re gone. We come from the natural world and we return to the natural world. When I frame the loss of Walter in that way, there’s really very little for me to be sad about.

He lived a pretty long life for a dog (12.5 years). His needs were always met. His days were never boring. He made us happy (and thousands of you, too). And when he got sick and could no longer go on, we were there with him every step of the way, right up to the end — and he knew we loved him.

I miss him and I’m sad he’s not here, of course, but that sadness is expected. The things that sneak up on me and feel like overwhelming grief or guilt are usually constructs of society or religion that aren’t really worth my energy and it is REALLY helpful when I recognize this.

Dealing with the Tears 😭

I remember early on in Walter’s diagnosis wondering how I could even physically cry as much as I had been crying. I kept thinking “Can I really cry this much every day for weeks or months? When will this end?”

And although I’m not sure I have the perfect answer, I can tell you what helped.

One of my friends lost her infant son to a rare genetic condition. She told me to focus on how I wanted Walter to remember me. Did I want him to think I was sad at the end of his life? Or joyful and happy? Although I think its important to process your emotions and step away to cry when you need to — focusing on how my sadness might make him feel helped me default to a happier state most of the time.

Other tips I found helpful:

• Cry in the shower. Your pet probably isn’t in there with you and the warm water will help depuff your face after a cry session.

• Preparation H (yes, really) can help reduce swelling under your eyes or other puffiness in your face from excessive crying.

• A good moisturizer/oil on your nose + a layer of Vaseline over the top of it while you sleep can heal a dry nose overnight.

• Excessive crying can be hard on your eyelashes (at one point I had a literal bald spot on my right eye). Using a lash conditioner (coconut oil and castor oil are both great) can help keep them from getting brittle.

Goodbye on a Budget 💵

I want to take a moment to talk about all this from an economic perspective, because having a sick pet and saying goodbye to them can come with a hefty price tag — one that not everyone can afford.

A lot of people were very adamant that at-home euthanasia was the way to go. Personally, there are times where I wish I didn’t have those final memories in our home, and I can see how parts of the process are more easily done in a vet’s office.

Doing it at the vet’s office also means not having to deal with the logistics of removing your pets body from your home. Depending on your living situation, this might not be that traumatic. For us, it meant carrying his body through our neighborhood and to the vet’s car (our vet is an older woman and she was unable to do this on her own).

Doing the procedure in our home more than doubled the cost. In retrospect, I think I would have been happy doing the 3-step euthanasia and administering the sedatives outdoors at a park near the vet’s office, then taking Walter there in that sleepy state.

I also felt oddly pressured to cremate Walter and retain his ashes. While pet cremation is fairly common in Denmark, receiving your pets ashes back is a somewhat rare request (make sure you are EXPLICIT about expecting the ashes to be returned to you!). Paying for a separate cremation + the return of the ashes more than doubled our existing bill (again).

And to be honest it really bothered me to not know where he was or what was happening to him in the days following his death. If we had a yard or easy access to land I might have preferred to just bury him and allow him to decompose with the earth. As it is, we got his ashes back in a biodegradable urn and plan to spread his ashes at some of our favorite places in Denmark, then take some of the ashes back to the Midwest with us later this summer.

FWIW: It’s somewhat risky to fly with ashes. For human remains, you should travel with a death certificate. Vets, I have been assured, cannot legally issue these. So your best bet is to fly with a small quantity of ashes along with a receipt that shows the date of euthanasia and hope they aren’t confiscated.

So, to summarize, I think there are aspects that were “nice to haves” but not a requirement for offering your pet a dignified and comfortable death.

The final bill was nearly $700 USD (for at-home, 3-step euthanasia, private cremation + return of ashes in an urn), and I know that’s a bill that not everyone can just absorb — especially if it’s somewhat unexpected. So I hope this is helpful if you need to be more cost-conscious.

If I was trying to say goodbye on a budget I would:

• Opt for 3-part euthanasia (extra step is a sedative pill you administer one hour ahead of the appointment, this cost around $15 extra) so your dog is relaxed and not frantic or panicked upon arrival at the vet. I would give this to them at home (then drive to the vet) or nearby at a park or other outdoor space that your dog would enjoy. You might need to carry your pet after administering this, so plan accordingly if you have a large dog.

• Have the process completed at the vet’s office.

• Forego cremation in favor of a natural burial if I was able to do that.

Six Month Update ⏰

Functioning Freeze

It has now been six months since we said goodbye to Walter, so I wanted to update this post with some of what I’ve experienced since losing him.

It wasn’t until June that I felt the full enormity of losing Walter (he passed at the end of April).

In mid-June I began feeling very dysregulated. I was exhausted, couldn’t focus, and was struggling with anxiety and tunnel vision.

Through therapy, I was able to recognize that Walter was my main tool for emotional regulation. To summarize: when something stressful happened, Walter helped me regulate my nervous system. Even though I didn’t necessarily recognize this was what I was doing, I was used to getting a dose of this on a regular basis (we were together almost 24/7 for nearly 13 years so I was very rarely without this support). Once I experienced a few stressful situations without him it compounded and was difficult to manage.

I found myself in a full-on “Functioning Freeze”. This is when our sympathetic nervous system is stuck in the “freeze” state.

I did an intense round of therapy in July (4 hours in 2 weeks) and was able to work through a lot of that and find new ways to regulate and manage the anxiety. FWIW I’m using the Open App for guided meditation (that’s a refer-a-friend link for a free 30-day trial) and doing some other somatic exercises each day.

Moral of the story: it’s possible that your dog is more than just your best friend. They might be an emotional regulation tool, too. I just want to normalize how these losses can end up uncovering things that we might need to work through and that providing people with the proper time, space and resources to grieve a pet is really important. Go to therapy if you can — you can receive free pet-loss therapy through Lap of Love.

Dogsitting

Around the 5-month mark we committed to three weeks of dog sitting for friends who were traveling back to the US. This is a dog we have known for five years, and who was a good friend to Walter, so we were more than happy to have her!

I was not prepared for how hard the first few days would be. I actually panicked a bit and started thinking about who I could contact to take her. I just wasn’t prepared for some of the things that would be incredibly triggering. For example, one of the first nights we were on the couch watching TV and she was sleeping nearby. She started dreaming and making noises in her sleep that sounded just like Walter. We both looked at each other and teared up.

Or coming home and hearing the paws on the floor only to then realize it wasn’t Walter coming to greet me.

After a couple days, the sting of this went away, and we were once again able to feel the tremendous joy of having a dog back in the house. But it also helped me realize that dog sitting might not always be the best idea, depending on where you are in the healing process, and that even if you feel like you’re doing really well, those first few days might be harder than you expected.

Overall I feel like a longish-term dog sitting gig was a necessary step in our journey through grief. It helped us face some of those emotions, experience what it would be like to take care of a dog who isn’t Walter (we certainly miss him, but we also just miss the presence of a dog in our life), and reminded me pretty much everything is more fun with a dog.

Getting Another Dog 🐕

The short answer here is that I absolutely cannot imagine my life without a dog in it.

I think anyone who has ever loved a dog understands that feeling.

And while I 100% understand people’s desire to fill the void, or to have multiple dogs so you never have to *quite* endure the full impact of being without one…I think all we can say right now is that we know we will have a dog again someday.

I’m trusting that the ride dog will find their way into our lives at the right time. For right now, I feel content with spoiling my friends’ dogs and dog-sitting when we can, while trying to just enjoy the relaxation and freedom of not having a dog at the moment.

What Was Your Experience? 🐾

Have you lost a beloved pet? Are there things you are grateful to have done? Things that you found helped with the grief? Scroll down to the comments, I’d love to provide more resources for people.

Additional Resources I Loved 📚

Being Mortal by Atul Gawande - I read this book nearly a decade ago, but found myself thinking about it often throughout Walter’s illness. I think its a book we should all read, because eventually we will all need to consider our own mortality or the mortality of someone we love. The book helps navigate end-of-life care, assess quality of life, difficult decisions and difficult conversations.

Lap of Love - This is an online organization that offers free virtual support groups for pet loss as well as 1-on-1 counseling, an online course, and other resources.

Pet Loss Doctor on Instagram - Dr. Katie Lawlor is a psychologist who specializes in pet loss and grief.

1. https://www.forbes.com/health/mind/what-is-anticipatory-grief/

2. https://www.betterup.com/blog/disenfranchised-grief