The title makes a bold claim but the article does not back it up, the main argument about it being harder is that you are losing a companion that provided uncritical unconditional love. I suppose humans can be quite critical. That aspect may be true but I have lost my dad and my dog and the loss of my dad is infinitely more harder, no question - I still think about him every single day, I don't do the same for my dog, who I also loved very much.
One aspect of the death of my dog that was very hard was that I had to make the decision to go ahead with euthanasia at the vet, because he could not longer get up and was in pain (he just lay on his side due to his extreme stage of cancer). That was hard, knowing that I made the decision to end his life at that moment, that haunted me and I wish he had just died by himself. That is hard, but it's the complexity of a human relationship and the critical feedback and love that we get from a human loved one that allows us to grow and learn and a big reason I think why I miss my human relatives more than my dog.
"Can" is the operative word there. I have had experiences similar to your own and for me, the death of my father was much more devastating. But I can imagine less socially connected folks or folks with poor family relationships being utterly devastated by the loss of a pet that is providing unconditional acceptance and companionship.
Yeah I don't mean to get in to a "which death is harder to overcome" pissing match, but I've lost dogs as well as close relatives and friends and the two weren't even remotely close in difficulty.
I get that it's possible in some circumstances that for some people losing their dog will be harder than losing a relative, but I think for the vast majority of people and circumstances this is not going to be the case.
The article even ends with:
>While the death of a dog is horrible, dog owners have become so accustomed to the reassuring and nonjudgmental presence of their canine companions that, more often than not, they’ll eventually get a new one.
You can replace the love a dog gives you, and most people end up doing just that. You can't replace the love your father gives you. You can't replace the love your best friend has given you since you were 8. You can't replace the 50 years of life you were planning to share together.
I've lost many beloved pets throughout my life, it's devastating for sure but i've also felt the pain of losing both of my parents, for me, it's not even close. You make a good point about irreplaceability. It doesn't bother me that my kids didn't get to meet my childhood dog, but it really hurts they will never get to meet their grandparents.
Can confirm. No loss of a relative or friend has yet affected me the way putting my dog to sleep did. I raised him from a pup and he was with me through years of relative social isolation. He was so strong, then weak then I had to make a decision. It took years to get over it. I'd cry when I thought about him, even when certain songs played. Yes it's embarrassing when the death of your dog bothers you more than the death of your father, but that came after years of dementia. I dunno, I guess it isn't a contest
I learned when I was about 40 that a dog I'd had from a very early age to about 8 was put down rather than going missing. He'd been worrying sheep and living in a rural area that was a death sentence.
I got remarkably upset - I can see why my siblings/parents never mentioned it to me!
Similar here. Raised a German Shepherd from 8 weeks to 9 years old. Worked from home and rarely spent time away from him over the entire 9 years, was truly my best friend. Didn't even go on vacations without him.
Buried him only 12 days after his first symptoms, aggressive lung cancer. I'm still not over it and 5 months later still have emotional events that last anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour.
My dog died in my arms waiting to put her down. This was during my divorce from my first wife.
As bad as the divorce was, nothing will ever come close to losing that dog. She was always there for me like no human ever can or would be and I was a mediocre owner to say the least.
I would like to get another dog, but after my childhood dogs passed away, getting her I knew it would eventually come. Dogs are better than any person I've ever known, including my current wife and myself. I wish I believed in dog heaven, sadly we just get to be blessed for the time they're here with us.
I'm not religious, but I heard someone once say something to the effect of "when you die, all of the dogs you've ever known come rushing up to you at once."
Every dog I've ever met is better than every person I've ever met.
If I believed in reincarnation, I would believe that if we were good enough people in this life, we could come back as dogs in the next one. But it's so hard to be a person worthy of becoming a dog.
For me, the most gut wrenching part was the feeling that I couldn't do anything to help my dog understand what was happening.
A dog becomes a pseudo child over the course of your life together. As any parent could tell you, losing a child, and having to see that child pass away, is the worst feeling imaginable.
It's been over five years and it is still painful to think about the last moments that I spent with my little buddy. You just don't get over it.
Fear of death can be worse than death itself. I actually think it's a blessing that my dogs didn't understand what was happening, so they didn't suffer as much.
>Dogs recognize people and can learn to interpret human emotional states from facial expression alone.
I've always just mimicked my dog's smile by opening my mouth wide. They seem to recognize and respond to that easier than an actual human smile, at least in absence of any vocal cues to work with.
In fact, the very last interaction I had with my previous dog was doing just that with the smile being instantly reciprocated, despite her severely labored breathing at the time.
>I remember making eye contact with Murphy moments before she took her last breath – she flashed me a look that was an endearing blend of confusion and the reassurance that everyone was ok because we were both by her side.
I had this exact same experience, up until whatever blue-colored fluid the vet injected my dog with seemingly hit the brain/CNS, causing her beautiful puppy dog eyes to suddenly flutter uncontrollably in the moment before death. The effect was rapid, but it had a certain unsettling violence to it that I didn't care for at all. God only knows what that shit felt like before it had fully perfused throughout the brain.
I suggest talking to your vet before any euthanasia and discussing exactly what they're going to use and how it works. If you have the money, opt for sedation that renders your pet gradually unconscious prior.
I once trained a totally deaf dog we were fostering. I taught him thumbs-up as "good dog", and everything just rolled from there. Years later, I still do thumbs-up gestures all the time. That dog trained me!
(I'm glad we only had him for a week. Another week, and I don't think I would have been able to let him go! But we really couldn't have three full-time dogs then.)
Hah. Come to think of it, I usually give a thumbs up in conjunction with the aforementioned "dog smile". Turns out the two gestures go really well together, or at least I think they do. Dogs probably think I'm an idiot. :)
We've always trained our dogs with hand gestures rather than words anyway, so it made sense. I was really glad to help out Dusty! He was about a year old, a kind of misbred Australian shepherd that Aussie folks call a "lethal white". Lethal whites (a product of breeding two merle-colored Aussies together, 1/4 of which are like this) are often blind, deaf, or both. Dusty could see okay, but he was totally deaf. And being a herding dog, he needed a job. He wanted so hard to be a good boy, to contribute some how, but had no idea what to do. (He had been rescued from a dangerous domestic violence situation, where the owner's boyfriend hated that stupid destructive dog of hers.)
He was able to move on to his next fostering knowing how to sit, lay down, and stay, and how to be taught more. It was amazing to teach him! It was like Helen Keller come to life in my house.
My wife and I joke that our two dogs taught us to howl when firetrucks go by with their sirens blaring. We catch ourselves howling in the car, by ourselves, when a firetruck passes.
I'm so afraid of coming to the day when I have to euthanize my dog. I'm hoping she dies of some natural cause before I have to do that. No matter how irrational the thought is I will have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she trusts me and relies on me for everything and I am making the decision to end her life, even if it's to ease pain and suffering. The idea that I'm unilaterally making that decision and that I have no way to communicate to her about what is going on and why is going to be so difficult for me.
With cats, I find it's different. They tell you when it's time by withdrawing and being very reclusive, nearly catatonic. When we had to put down our last family cat (this would be our third over the course of my life) I decided I wanted to face it head-on and offered to take the cat to the vet to be euthanized. I held her as it happened and it was very, very hard. But at least I knew it was the right thing to do, if not the right environment to do it in.
With dogs, they might be in terrific amounts of pain, but they still want to be with you no matter what. When I try to put myself in that situation, I still want to be with my family through to the bitter end. I don't think I want to be euthanized unless I'm a vegetable. But, a dog doesn't have that higher understanding of what is happening or what the options are.
A very difficult decision to make, but it's difficult because we love them. I think your dog would always appreciate you for that.
I know it's more difficult, but being there to say goodbye to your pet, holding their paw, petting their head... it does add a certain amount of closure that (imo) you'll appreciate later.
That being said, my last dog passed on 5 years ago, and I'm tearing up just writing this. I'm glad I was there with her though.
A few years back, when our favorite family dog died, I wrote about it. As much as it hurt (and it was crushing), something that stood our for me was our choice to euthanize. We found a vet who had a specialist end-of-life practice. She offered hospice care for terminally ill animals, and in-home euthanasia services for when the time comes. She spent over an hour with us in our home, with Rubu, listening to our stories about him and helping us get ready. She then took him for cremation, and hand-delivered the ashes back to us. She was on a mission, a wonderful mission.
And I keep thinking that's how I want to go... not in a hospital, wasting money on last-ditch efforts. I want to be at home, surrounded by the people who love me, listening to them tell each other stories about me. And when it's time, I want a doctor to deliver a painless injection to stop my heart and let me go in peace.
There's something greatly fucked up about our society when we help our dogs die with more dignity than we do ourselves.
(fwiw, Rubucac died of hemangiosarcoma, a dog-specific cancer. It attacks the cells lining the inside of blood vessels, causing them to grow random, structurally deficient ways. It usually starts in the spleen, and spreads very quickly. The new blood vessels rupture, causing internal bleeding. By the time it is discovered (usually due to weakness from the bleeding, or often, the dog just dying right on the spot), it has already spread throughout the body due to circulation. Dogs only last a few weeks at best before they die of internal bleeding, heart attack, or stroke, and treatment options are invasive and largely ineffective. I'm glad humans don't get it.)
When we got Rubu's diagnosis, we knew we only had weeks. He was going through bouts of suffering, but not in real pain, and was "himself". We were able to keep him for two weeks, before the attacks were coming too often and he was truly suffering.
We could have kept him alive. He would have lived maybe hours, maybe weeks, but sooner or later, the cancer was going to kill him. We could have gone into "treatment"... removed his spleen (which might kill him then and there), followed by intensive chemotherapy. That might have gotten him months, but at the cost of great suffering.
We did what was best for him, not for us. If I had my way, he'd be curled up on the couch next to me right now.
On that note, my gramma-in-law is pissed(& in agony) right now because her DNR was not respected. She is 95yo and suffered a stroke 2 weeks ago. She spent the last 9 months rehabbing a broken hip and said she would not choose to do it again. She is currently drugged to the gills, mostly paralyzed and still manages to cuss & plead for mercy.
Dr Jack Kevorkian should have been lauded, instead he was given jail.
I would encourage you to take the time to just consider this in a different way. Animals that are loved are soulish, the incredible (but unfortunately not Catholic) Dr. Hugh Ross makes this easy to understand: http://www.reasons.org/articles/origin-of-soulish-animals. I would simply add that God allows us to form loving bonds with animals to provide a little heaven on earth --a loved [animal of your choice] is heaven on earth. But heaven being heaven, we won't need something as wonderful as our animal friends to make existence better.
Now if the misguided Puritans didn't have their way everybody would be able to die with the amount of dignity they need to make it to the end of the race. Why, because God has provided us with all the tools we need to control pain, but the powers-that-be (really they are the pain-givers either intentionally or just out of ignorance) deny this to us --think about all the places that put people in jail for growing a plant, or otherwise prohibiting scientists to their jobs to make things better.
My inner St Francis tells me that we euthanize animals at the correct time because of our love and respect for them, and there's no consequence for their souls. But for our fellow man, we provide care to its natural end so that we can all live forever.
Frank T. McAndrew did a great job with this article. I think about this stuff all the time because for me it's infinitely interesting, but in my case, I put a Catholic spin on it.
There's only one way to live forever, and I now know with certainty that commenting on Atheist Central will not get you there, more like lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.
> Now if the misguided Puritans didn't have their way everybody would be able to die with the amount of dignity they need to make it to the end of the race.
It was my understanding that suicide was an irredeemable sin in your religion. Otherwise, why wouldn't every Christian that is convinced they will go to heaven not commit suicide after some form of Room 101-style soul purification? Otherwise you're leaving it up to chance that you'll make an irredeemable mistake in the future.
I don't have any skin in the game, I'm just confused why the most logical course of action wouldn't be to make your path to heaven as fast as possible?
same experience with my cat, Pussum. we had to euthanize him last august after he started limping and it turned out to be aggressive fibrosarcoma in his leg that already progressed to his pelvis and would have required at least a hemipelvectomy with an uncertain recovery prognosis. we euthanized him at home 3 months after diagnosis (they told us he had only a couple weeks) when he became too weak and unable to urinate and poop. it was gut–wrenching to have him die before his time while i held him. i hate to think it was a shitty vaccine, since it started close to an injection site at some point after we took him to a slightly less expensive vaccination visit at a Petco. he was an indoor/outdoor cat, so he needed the full regimen.
stupid stoic cats don't tell you what's wrong before it's too late. he was only 9 :(
Same thing happened to my cat, I took it to the vet to have a bladder stone removed, and I left with a 2 month terminal cancer diagnosis for her. At least she got a month of life without the bladder stone before she wasted away.
Stupid stoic cats indeed. The only way I could tell she had the bladder stone was when she started peeing outside the litter box. Miss her to this day.
When we adopted him, we were told he was about 7 years, but he had a really shitty mouth from living in the wild (and a sore above his tail and an eye infection), so we planned on getting his mouth fixed ASAP.
We brought him in, dropped about $2k on dental work, but during prep for the surgery, they discovered he had a kidney disease that was only common in older cats, like 12-15. So he was around twice as old as we thought he was.
So on to kidney-healthy food he went and we prepared to only have maybe a couple years with our wonderful boy, when during a routine check-up to see how the food was working, we discovered a large mass. Cancerous or not, it was right on his pancreas, and any operation would have left serious doubts of recovery, especially considering his state.
We had him for about three months after fixing his mouth. He was a lot happier for it, and we don't begrudge the money and improvement of his lifestyle, but damn, to go from "we're fixing your mouth so you can have a long and healthy life" to euthanizing the poor guy four months later really fuckin' stung.
If cats weren't so stoic we could maybe have done something about it while it was still small enough to safely operate.
>There's something greatly fucked up about our society when we help our dogs die with more dignity than we do ourselves.
When my Mom died (complications from cancer and trying to remove it), she was essentially allowed to suffocate over the course of 24 hours while we slowly delivered her pain meds. We could request more pain meds every certain number of times. I had to sit there watching my Mom suffocate so that everyone could have the plausible deniability of being the one that actually were the straw that broke the camel's back and caused her death. Everyone knew she was going to die, the decision was made not to go any further, and we let her endure another 24 hours of suffering.
I had to put my dog down a few months earlier and the whole time staring at my Mom suffering, I thought exactly what you just said. It's a sad society when my dog has more dignity in death than my Mom.
There are some (5 maybe) death with dignity states, and the palliative care has been increasing in some states, but I agree that we do do better with animals than people in this case
Dogs are engineered for maximum adorableness and sympathy, after all. I don't think it's that surprising that the animal we made specifically to be the best companion possible is a better companion than a random untrained person.
A few years ago we had to put down our first family dog due to an previously-unknown spinal disorder. It was fucking gut wrenching for me to make the decision. I recall thinking that there are family members (cousins, maybe an uncle or two) that would upset me less upon their passing.
I agree that for many folks the death of a dog is harder than the death of a human being — but I don't agree that this is a good thing. I love my dog, who is wonderful, fun and always eager to please, but at the end of the day she's an animal and I'm her owner: a dog's not a human being. When my dog dies, if I feel that loss more keenly than I do that of a family member, then I hope I'll consider that a sign of inverted priorities, an emotional problem which should be corrected, not celebrated.
Granted, I may feel differently when the black day comes …
I am reminded of a column I read years ago about how people don't care much if an innocent man is killed by the police, but really care if a dog is. Human life is worth more; I'd hope that is self-evident.
This has been studied. The issue is that people view dogs as helpless and dependent. You get a similar reaction if someone with say, extreme downs syndrome is killed.
Normal people have agency. Most of the "innocent man is killed by the police" stories involve some very stupid behaviour by the "innocent man" leading up to his death.
What about killing millions of pigs because they're tasty? Do they have agency? What about stepping on an ant for the fun of it? Does it get a negative reaction equal to the killing of a dog? It's an animal's life...
The only reason killing a dog would be bad is because the dog may belong to someone, so it's like burning their house: it's property vandalism. Everything beyond that is down to aesthetic: most people in your culture think dogs are cute, so they want to care for them. In some chinese places, a dog is food, so it's alright, just like it is alright killing millions of pigs in our culture.
There's a lovely Kipling poem called "The Power of a Dog":
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Dogs seem to love us in a completely guileless way. Humans don't really do that. It always seems at least a little contingent between people. I think that's what makes it so hard when dogs go. No one will ever love you like that.
It's not true that "giving them everything they want to and don't ask anything in return" is necessary to receive an emotional response as the ones that have been described here. That's not even a good approach to educating a dog.
A dog will be very happy to comply with any of your commands just to see you happy with him/her/it, no treats required (although these help in early stages).
But I think the point is that you can treat any other animals in the way you mentioned ("giving them everything they want to and don't ask anything in return") and you don't get the same kind treatment from them than you would from a dog.
Yes, they are so beautiful in that way. Their love and their enthusiasm for life feels so pure. Humans are... well, certainly more complicated than that.
I grew up on a cattle ranch, and we always had 5-6 dogs. None of them were "pets" -- they slept outside, their names were more descriptions, and they seldom lived to be more than 5-6 years old before getting run over, or kicked by a horse, or bit by a rattlesnake. Note that most of these injuries didn't result in death, that came in the form of a bullet to the head. Dad would say, "Better for him not to suffer, once he gets injured once it'll just keep happening. A dog that can't work doesn't have a purpose."
When I was 11 or 12 I had a dog that I really liked. I had raised her since she was a puppy, always gave her special treatment, and she followed me all over when I did my chores. Like just about every kid with their first dog though, I didn't do a good job of training her. She quickly developed bad habits -- she would jump up on people (knocking down kids), she would steal food from tables, and chase cats and chickens.
Dad let it slide because I really loved the dog, but as a compromise I had to keep her locked up in an old tool shed when we weren't home. One day she got out and killed just about every chicken we had... and a few cats. Dad told me to pick up all the half-chewed caucuses and throw them in the burn barrel -- there were about 50 dead chickens and 3 dead cats. And we'd been gone for probably 8-10 summer hours... the smell wasn't pleasant. It was clear that the dog had been killing for fun, she wasn't trying to eat these animals.
When I got done cleaning up the mess, Dad handed me a .45 and said, "Since it's your dog, you should be the one to take care of it." It was hard, I cried, and pleaded, promised to train her better... Dad wouldn't budge, "You know you can't fix this -- once she has a taste for killing, she'll do it again. Only a matter of time before she bites a person." I took the dog out for a walk around the place, gave her a bunch of meat scraps, and then, with Dad's help telling me where to aim, I shot her in the head. It was instantaneous. We buried her in the back yard.
The next day Dad said he heard one of the neighbors' dogs had puppies and wanted to know if I would like to go pick one out. I didn't want a new dog, I was still pretty shaken up. Dad pushed the issue, "Those puppies don't know about your last dog, and they need to be trained now. If they don't get adopted by someone with time to train them, then they'll just end up chasing cattle or killing chickens and getting shot. Who better to train them than you?"
That puppy I picked, a little Mutt Heeler, ended up being my best friend for over a decade (which is a very long time for a ranch dog). He learned over 50 commands, could work cattle, was even good at training other dogs... And when he got too old to work, he would still ride around in the pickup with us. Couldn't picture my life now without him in it. Dad had a strict "no dogs in the house" policy, and that dog was the only one who was allowed to break it.
On one hand, it's very sad to put a dog down. On the other, it's an opportunity to get a new dog. You're only going to have a finite number of dogs in your lifetime, there's no sense wasting time grieving. Did your old dog have a good life with lots of hikes and muddy feet and sloppy kisses? And do you have a lot of good memories? Great, then that dog accomplished his mission and he wouldn't want you to feel down. Who's to say you won't love the next dog just as much... or more?
There are a lot of dogs out there that need homes, and if you invest your time and affection you can turn just about any of them into an amazing companion.
"You know you can't fix this -- once she has a taste for killing, she'll do it again."
Yep, and that's sad. It reminds me of a certain cruelty that truly ticked me off about people. Sometimes when people get cute puppies for Xmas and the puppy grows, people will ditch the now-dog in a rural area expecting them to be found and grow up on a farm[1]. These dogs will turn feral and start killing small animals. Sometimes they group up into a pack and then attack larger animals (sheep, sometimes horses, and well kids). The only recourse is to hunt them down. Its a sad end that shouldn't have to happen.
1) yes, this sounds stupid when I write it but many of your fellow humans live in a bit of a fantasy land.
This is accurate for the rural area I grew up. It was never clear where the dogs came from, there was a small town about 10 miles away, we assumed many of the dogs had gotten loose... or picked up some other poorly trained dogs from other ranches. But... entirely possible people were letting dogs loose that they just didn't want to take care of. The end result was a pack of 5-10 dogs that loved to chase cattle.
What was always hardest about shooting those dogs was that it was hard to get in a clean shot. Typically it took a few shots to bring them down, and often you'd have to go up close to finish it off. Once it was hurt, it stopped being a ferocious animal that was attacking your livestock and turned back into someone's whimpering pet. By the point you had shot it in the back hip, and side... it knew you were coming to kill it. In the end it was confused, and hurt, and scared, and alone.
Couldn't help but feel that people had failed those animals.
Reminds me of a story my Dad once told me about growing up poor in the Pacific Northwest - he raised a piglet into a full grown Sow, it followed him around and it was like a pet to him until my Grandfather decided they needed the meat and butchered it. It's not like they were farmers and it was part of life...that I can understand in its own realm...years and years later I still have a hard time trying to fathom how that much have been an emotionally disturbing experience.
I've had the luxury of never losing a family member. All of my grandparents are still alive even. I'm actually really terrified that "I'm due" to lose a bunch of people relatively quickly.
In 2015 I had to euthanize my cat. He was the most dog-like cat I've ever met, which was amazing. The vet attempted to give me "one more weekend" by sending him home with relatively powerful pain medications so I could have two more days with him before having to say goodbye, but when I got home the pain medications were ineffective and he was in horrible pain. I walked him right back to the vet and went through the euthanasia process. It was easily the saddest I've ever been; I collapsed in the vet's office when they finally took him. They let me hold him the whole time, which, as a fiercly protective cat father, was the only thing I'd have allowed anyway.
Anyway, I'm really scared that I'll have to go through this or worse over the next few years. I don't know that I can handle it.
My nan was the one constant in my life growing up and always loved me unconditionally even if she had a somewhat flexible approach to use by dates, there was always a sandwich and a hug.
Losing her was the hardest thing that ever happened to me but I got through it, she'd known the end was coming and had written letters to each of her children and grandchildren, mine still chokes me up but I read it occasionally.
I've spent a decade trying to be the man my nan described in that letter, funny really she made me a better happier person in life and in death.
If anyone has kids or grandkids I'd recommend writing similar letters.
Don't dread the end, enjoy the time you have, death comes for everything so worrying about an inevitability will sour the time you have.
It's been two years since my Samson died, and my whole family is still shaken up. He literally died in my arms an hour before we wore going to take him to get put to sleep. He had a tumor around his heart that was causing fluid to build up around the heart. He basically suffocated with his lungs working perfectly, his wheezing in that last hour still haunts me.
And he was such a good dog. "Obedient" doesn't do him justice: he actively tried to please us. He'd learn cues from us about our routines, and we'd train him without even realizing it. Like how he could lay in the bed with my Dad before my Mom came in and was ready to go to sleep, then she would nudge him off the bed. Within a month of this routine, he would just get off the bed on his own when he heard my Mom finish brushing her teeth, no matter how tired he was. And he had a special love for kittens, which we had in the house a lot because we provided foster care for cats, and he doted on them like a proud parent.
We had a dog (Rambo - yes, the name was my fault) when I was growing up. Honestly, as a kid sometimes I was a bit of a shit to him, but I loved him.
He was put down whilst I was spending a few months in America before university because he'd gone for my brother who, at the time was a little more than 18 months old. I was OK with it at the time; I understood why it was necessary, and I didn't miss him so much because I wasn't at home. That was 1995.
It was only later it hit me, in dribs and drabs of sorrow, and I still think about him today, and miss him quite regularly. I've never had a dog since because I always lived in rented accommodation where pets weren't allowed, and then when I did finally get my own place (planning to get a dog), I realised I still couldn't because I was out too many hours a day and there was nobody else to take care of it.
I still dream that one day I'll have a dog again, and be able to take care of it properly.
I read somewhere years ago that "a pet is a child that cannot speak" and oh how true that is and feels!!
I grew up having both cat & dog. I was still a kid when they passed and I was gullible enough to believe my parents that they "got married and started their own families so they moved to their own houses".
I tend to agree here when i hear people equating love of animals with love of children and it kind of bothers me when people make such an equivalence. I've had many pets throughout my life, and my love for them pales in comparison to the love for my children. I'm certain i would give my own life to save any of my children, i can't say the same for my dog.
Last spring we had to put our dog Milo to sleep, he had mitral valve disease and we could not bear to see him suffer. I have dealt with a lot of death in my life: close friends, family, etc. Suicide, accidents, disease, all kinds of stuff.
None of the grieving periods I've had after other deaths even comes close to the kind of grief I had after losing Milo. For a week straight, I couldn't get through a day without bursting into tears. A year later, we have a new puppy, but I still sometimes cry about Milo, and I am not someone who usually cries easily.
Well, "relative or friend" is different from "spouse, child, or parent".
My dog got cancer. We had to put her down. It wasn't easy. (The vet, in trying to be nice, made it worse. They sent us this sympathy card that had a dog on it that looked almost like ours. I just lost it when I saw that.)
But, you know, if you told me that someone in my household was going to get cancer and die, and I could get away with it being the dog, I'd take that in a heartbeat. It's not the same as my wife. It's not the same as one of my kids.
I had a very sociable Golden Retriever for about 13 years. Loved to fish and swim for hours and smart as a whip. The last and final ride to the vet, he just knew. I think he completely understood what was about to happen. He was old, and noticeably more on edge than normal during the ride. I can't even think about the walk from the parking lot to the front door even today. I met my parents and siblings inside. He went around the room in a circle resting his head in everyone's lap for a minute, as if to say goodbye. We stood by him as he was put down.
My brother, whose a burly, bearded car mechanic and tough as nails, was the one to break down. My sisters were the ones consoling him for once. The passing of that dog showed more emotion from my family than even my grandparents dying.
Funny: losing a god, on the other hand, can be so casual as to be barely perceptible. Looking back across the years, you can hardly pinpoint the time of death.
I've put dogs down in the past. They get sick or old, and I think even they know it's time to go. I'm fine with that. Always cry at the time, but I mostly get over it by the time I get home.
But about a year and a half ago we had to put an otherwise lovable, smart, super-trainable guy down for dangerous behavioral issues that just weren't going to get fixed. That devastated me. I always thought that with enough training, enough money spent, and the right environment that he'd come out of it. But after several years it was clear that he wouldn't. So for the safety of the community, and for our own safety as well, we put him down. I can't recall anything in my life that crushed me more. It's one thing to put down someone who's already on their way out. Quite another to execute your friend because you can't up with any other solution.
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[ 2.6 ms ] story [ 149 ms ] threadOne aspect of the death of my dog that was very hard was that I had to make the decision to go ahead with euthanasia at the vet, because he could not longer get up and was in pain (he just lay on his side due to his extreme stage of cancer). That was hard, knowing that I made the decision to end his life at that moment, that haunted me and I wish he had just died by himself. That is hard, but it's the complexity of a human relationship and the critical feedback and love that we get from a human loved one that allows us to grow and learn and a big reason I think why I miss my human relatives more than my dog.
I get that it's possible in some circumstances that for some people losing their dog will be harder than losing a relative, but I think for the vast majority of people and circumstances this is not going to be the case.
The article even ends with:
>While the death of a dog is horrible, dog owners have become so accustomed to the reassuring and nonjudgmental presence of their canine companions that, more often than not, they’ll eventually get a new one.
You can replace the love a dog gives you, and most people end up doing just that. You can't replace the love your father gives you. You can't replace the love your best friend has given you since you were 8. You can't replace the 50 years of life you were planning to share together.
I got remarkably upset - I can see why my siblings/parents never mentioned it to me!
Buried him only 12 days after his first symptoms, aggressive lung cancer. I'm still not over it and 5 months later still have emotional events that last anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour.
As bad as the divorce was, nothing will ever come close to losing that dog. She was always there for me like no human ever can or would be and I was a mediocre owner to say the least.
I would like to get another dog, but after my childhood dogs passed away, getting her I knew it would eventually come. Dogs are better than any person I've ever known, including my current wife and myself. I wish I believed in dog heaven, sadly we just get to be blessed for the time they're here with us.
If I believed in reincarnation, I would believe that if we were good enough people in this life, we could come back as dogs in the next one. But it's so hard to be a person worthy of becoming a dog.
Fear of death can be worse than death itself. I actually think it's a blessing that my dogs didn't understand what was happening, so they didn't suffer as much.
I've always just mimicked my dog's smile by opening my mouth wide. They seem to recognize and respond to that easier than an actual human smile, at least in absence of any vocal cues to work with.
In fact, the very last interaction I had with my previous dog was doing just that with the smile being instantly reciprocated, despite her severely labored breathing at the time.
>I remember making eye contact with Murphy moments before she took her last breath – she flashed me a look that was an endearing blend of confusion and the reassurance that everyone was ok because we were both by her side.
I had this exact same experience, up until whatever blue-colored fluid the vet injected my dog with seemingly hit the brain/CNS, causing her beautiful puppy dog eyes to suddenly flutter uncontrollably in the moment before death. The effect was rapid, but it had a certain unsettling violence to it that I didn't care for at all. God only knows what that shit felt like before it had fully perfused throughout the brain.
I suggest talking to your vet before any euthanasia and discussing exactly what they're going to use and how it works. If you have the money, opt for sedation that renders your pet gradually unconscious prior.
(I'm glad we only had him for a week. Another week, and I don't think I would have been able to let him go! But we really couldn't have three full-time dogs then.)
He was able to move on to his next fostering knowing how to sit, lay down, and stay, and how to be taught more. It was amazing to teach him! It was like Helen Keller come to life in my house.
With cats, I find it's different. They tell you when it's time by withdrawing and being very reclusive, nearly catatonic. When we had to put down our last family cat (this would be our third over the course of my life) I decided I wanted to face it head-on and offered to take the cat to the vet to be euthanized. I held her as it happened and it was very, very hard. But at least I knew it was the right thing to do, if not the right environment to do it in.
With dogs, they might be in terrific amounts of pain, but they still want to be with you no matter what. When I try to put myself in that situation, I still want to be with my family through to the bitter end. I don't think I want to be euthanized unless I'm a vegetable. But, a dog doesn't have that higher understanding of what is happening or what the options are.
A very difficult decision to make, but it's difficult because we love them. I think your dog would always appreciate you for that.
She had wasted away to 2/3 her normal weight and was having a horrible time breathing, it was time, and it sucked, even recalling it sucks.
That being said, my last dog passed on 5 years ago, and I'm tearing up just writing this. I'm glad I was there with her though.
And I keep thinking that's how I want to go... not in a hospital, wasting money on last-ditch efforts. I want to be at home, surrounded by the people who love me, listening to them tell each other stories about me. And when it's time, I want a doctor to deliver a painless injection to stop my heart and let me go in peace.
There's something greatly fucked up about our society when we help our dogs die with more dignity than we do ourselves.
(fwiw, Rubucac died of hemangiosarcoma, a dog-specific cancer. It attacks the cells lining the inside of blood vessels, causing them to grow random, structurally deficient ways. It usually starts in the spleen, and spreads very quickly. The new blood vessels rupture, causing internal bleeding. By the time it is discovered (usually due to weakness from the bleeding, or often, the dog just dying right on the spot), it has already spread throughout the body due to circulation. Dogs only last a few weeks at best before they die of internal bleeding, heart attack, or stroke, and treatment options are invasive and largely ineffective. I'm glad humans don't get it.)
> There's something greatly fucked up about our society when we help our dogs die with more dignity than we do ourselves.
And I agree! I've said it for years: our animals die more dignified deaths than many humans.
We could have kept him alive. He would have lived maybe hours, maybe weeks, but sooner or later, the cancer was going to kill him. We could have gone into "treatment"... removed his spleen (which might kill him then and there), followed by intensive chemotherapy. That might have gotten him months, but at the cost of great suffering.
We did what was best for him, not for us. If I had my way, he'd be curled up on the couch next to me right now.
Dr Jack Kevorkian should have been lauded, instead he was given jail.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Kevorkian
Now if the misguided Puritans didn't have their way everybody would be able to die with the amount of dignity they need to make it to the end of the race. Why, because God has provided us with all the tools we need to control pain, but the powers-that-be (really they are the pain-givers either intentionally or just out of ignorance) deny this to us --think about all the places that put people in jail for growing a plant, or otherwise prohibiting scientists to their jobs to make things better.
My inner St Francis tells me that we euthanize animals at the correct time because of our love and respect for them, and there's no consequence for their souls. But for our fellow man, we provide care to its natural end so that we can all live forever.
Frank T. McAndrew did a great job with this article. I think about this stuff all the time because for me it's infinitely interesting, but in my case, I put a Catholic spin on it.
At what cost?
It was my understanding that suicide was an irredeemable sin in your religion. Otherwise, why wouldn't every Christian that is convinced they will go to heaven not commit suicide after some form of Room 101-style soul purification? Otherwise you're leaving it up to chance that you'll make an irredeemable mistake in the future.
I don't have any skin in the game, I'm just confused why the most logical course of action wouldn't be to make your path to heaven as fast as possible?
stupid stoic cats don't tell you what's wrong before it's too late. he was only 9 :(
Stupid stoic cats indeed. The only way I could tell she had the bladder stone was when she started peeing outside the litter box. Miss her to this day.
When we adopted him, we were told he was about 7 years, but he had a really shitty mouth from living in the wild (and a sore above his tail and an eye infection), so we planned on getting his mouth fixed ASAP.
We brought him in, dropped about $2k on dental work, but during prep for the surgery, they discovered he had a kidney disease that was only common in older cats, like 12-15. So he was around twice as old as we thought he was.
So on to kidney-healthy food he went and we prepared to only have maybe a couple years with our wonderful boy, when during a routine check-up to see how the food was working, we discovered a large mass. Cancerous or not, it was right on his pancreas, and any operation would have left serious doubts of recovery, especially considering his state.
We had him for about three months after fixing his mouth. He was a lot happier for it, and we don't begrudge the money and improvement of his lifestyle, but damn, to go from "we're fixing your mouth so you can have a long and healthy life" to euthanizing the poor guy four months later really fuckin' stung.
If cats weren't so stoic we could maybe have done something about it while it was still small enough to safely operate.
When my Mom died (complications from cancer and trying to remove it), she was essentially allowed to suffocate over the course of 24 hours while we slowly delivered her pain meds. We could request more pain meds every certain number of times. I had to sit there watching my Mom suffocate so that everyone could have the plausible deniability of being the one that actually were the straw that broke the camel's back and caused her death. Everyone knew she was going to die, the decision was made not to go any further, and we let her endure another 24 hours of suffering.
I had to put my dog down a few months earlier and the whole time staring at my Mom suffering, I thought exactly what you just said. It's a sad society when my dog has more dignity in death than my Mom.
Granted, I may feel differently when the black day comes …
I am reminded of a column I read years ago about how people don't care much if an innocent man is killed by the police, but really care if a dog is. Human life is worth more; I'd hope that is self-evident.
Normal people have agency. Most of the "innocent man is killed by the police" stories involve some very stupid behaviour by the "innocent man" leading up to his death.
The only reason killing a dog would be bad is because the dog may belong to someone, so it's like burning their house: it's property vandalism. Everything beyond that is down to aesthetic: most people in your culture think dogs are cute, so they want to care for them. In some chinese places, a dog is food, so it's alright, just like it is alright killing millions of pigs in our culture.
For some weird reason that reminded me of slave owners in US, the logic used to be quite similar.
THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
More here: http://www.bartleby.com/364/335.html
A dog will be very happy to comply with any of your commands just to see you happy with him/her/it, no treats required (although these help in early stages).
But I think the point is that you can treat any other animals in the way you mentioned ("giving them everything they want to and don't ask anything in return") and you don't get the same kind treatment from them than you would from a dog.
When I was 11 or 12 I had a dog that I really liked. I had raised her since she was a puppy, always gave her special treatment, and she followed me all over when I did my chores. Like just about every kid with their first dog though, I didn't do a good job of training her. She quickly developed bad habits -- she would jump up on people (knocking down kids), she would steal food from tables, and chase cats and chickens.
Dad let it slide because I really loved the dog, but as a compromise I had to keep her locked up in an old tool shed when we weren't home. One day she got out and killed just about every chicken we had... and a few cats. Dad told me to pick up all the half-chewed caucuses and throw them in the burn barrel -- there were about 50 dead chickens and 3 dead cats. And we'd been gone for probably 8-10 summer hours... the smell wasn't pleasant. It was clear that the dog had been killing for fun, she wasn't trying to eat these animals.
When I got done cleaning up the mess, Dad handed me a .45 and said, "Since it's your dog, you should be the one to take care of it." It was hard, I cried, and pleaded, promised to train her better... Dad wouldn't budge, "You know you can't fix this -- once she has a taste for killing, she'll do it again. Only a matter of time before she bites a person." I took the dog out for a walk around the place, gave her a bunch of meat scraps, and then, with Dad's help telling me where to aim, I shot her in the head. It was instantaneous. We buried her in the back yard.
The next day Dad said he heard one of the neighbors' dogs had puppies and wanted to know if I would like to go pick one out. I didn't want a new dog, I was still pretty shaken up. Dad pushed the issue, "Those puppies don't know about your last dog, and they need to be trained now. If they don't get adopted by someone with time to train them, then they'll just end up chasing cattle or killing chickens and getting shot. Who better to train them than you?"
That puppy I picked, a little Mutt Heeler, ended up being my best friend for over a decade (which is a very long time for a ranch dog). He learned over 50 commands, could work cattle, was even good at training other dogs... And when he got too old to work, he would still ride around in the pickup with us. Couldn't picture my life now without him in it. Dad had a strict "no dogs in the house" policy, and that dog was the only one who was allowed to break it.
On one hand, it's very sad to put a dog down. On the other, it's an opportunity to get a new dog. You're only going to have a finite number of dogs in your lifetime, there's no sense wasting time grieving. Did your old dog have a good life with lots of hikes and muddy feet and sloppy kisses? And do you have a lot of good memories? Great, then that dog accomplished his mission and he wouldn't want you to feel down. Who's to say you won't love the next dog just as much... or more?
There are a lot of dogs out there that need homes, and if you invest your time and affection you can turn just about any of them into an amazing companion.
* Jimmy Stewart Reads a Touching Poem About His Dog Beau on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show - YouTube || https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwGnCIdHQH0
Yep, and that's sad. It reminds me of a certain cruelty that truly ticked me off about people. Sometimes when people get cute puppies for Xmas and the puppy grows, people will ditch the now-dog in a rural area expecting them to be found and grow up on a farm[1]. These dogs will turn feral and start killing small animals. Sometimes they group up into a pack and then attack larger animals (sheep, sometimes horses, and well kids). The only recourse is to hunt them down. Its a sad end that shouldn't have to happen.
1) yes, this sounds stupid when I write it but many of your fellow humans live in a bit of a fantasy land.
What was always hardest about shooting those dogs was that it was hard to get in a clean shot. Typically it took a few shots to bring them down, and often you'd have to go up close to finish it off. Once it was hurt, it stopped being a ferocious animal that was attacking your livestock and turned back into someone's whimpering pet. By the point you had shot it in the back hip, and side... it knew you were coming to kill it. In the end it was confused, and hurt, and scared, and alone.
Couldn't help but feel that people had failed those animals.
In 2015 I had to euthanize my cat. He was the most dog-like cat I've ever met, which was amazing. The vet attempted to give me "one more weekend" by sending him home with relatively powerful pain medications so I could have two more days with him before having to say goodbye, but when I got home the pain medications were ineffective and he was in horrible pain. I walked him right back to the vet and went through the euthanasia process. It was easily the saddest I've ever been; I collapsed in the vet's office when they finally took him. They let me hold him the whole time, which, as a fiercly protective cat father, was the only thing I'd have allowed anyway.
Anyway, I'm really scared that I'll have to go through this or worse over the next few years. I don't know that I can handle it.
Losing her was the hardest thing that ever happened to me but I got through it, she'd known the end was coming and had written letters to each of her children and grandchildren, mine still chokes me up but I read it occasionally.
I've spent a decade trying to be the man my nan described in that letter, funny really she made me a better happier person in life and in death.
If anyone has kids or grandkids I'd recommend writing similar letters.
Don't dread the end, enjoy the time you have, death comes for everything so worrying about an inevitability will sour the time you have.
And he was such a good dog. "Obedient" doesn't do him justice: he actively tried to please us. He'd learn cues from us about our routines, and we'd train him without even realizing it. Like how he could lay in the bed with my Dad before my Mom came in and was ready to go to sleep, then she would nudge him off the bed. Within a month of this routine, he would just get off the bed on his own when he heard my Mom finish brushing her teeth, no matter how tired he was. And he had a special love for kittens, which we had in the house a lot because we provided foster care for cats, and he doted on them like a proud parent.
Rest in peace, boy
He was put down whilst I was spending a few months in America before university because he'd gone for my brother who, at the time was a little more than 18 months old. I was OK with it at the time; I understood why it was necessary, and I didn't miss him so much because I wasn't at home. That was 1995.
It was only later it hit me, in dribs and drabs of sorrow, and I still think about him today, and miss him quite regularly. I've never had a dog since because I always lived in rented accommodation where pets weren't allowed, and then when I did finally get my own place (planning to get a dog), I realised I still couldn't because I was out too many hours a day and there was nobody else to take care of it.
I still dream that one day I'll have a dog again, and be able to take care of it properly.
I grew up having both cat & dog. I was still a kid when they passed and I was gullible enough to believe my parents that they "got married and started their own families so they moved to their own houses".
A very touching comic (WARNING: extreme risk of tearing up): [1] http://anescapewithinthepages.tumblr.com/post/135364684513/c...
(apologies for the f-word on the URL)
None of the grieving periods I've had after other deaths even comes close to the kind of grief I had after losing Milo. For a week straight, I couldn't get through a day without bursting into tears. A year later, we have a new puppy, but I still sometimes cry about Milo, and I am not someone who usually cries easily.
My dog got cancer. We had to put her down. It wasn't easy. (The vet, in trying to be nice, made it worse. They sent us this sympathy card that had a dog on it that looked almost like ours. I just lost it when I saw that.)
But, you know, if you told me that someone in my household was going to get cancer and die, and I could get away with it being the dog, I'd take that in a heartbeat. It's not the same as my wife. It's not the same as one of my kids.
My brother, whose a burly, bearded car mechanic and tough as nails, was the one to break down. My sisters were the ones consoling him for once. The passing of that dog showed more emotion from my family than even my grandparents dying.
But about a year and a half ago we had to put an otherwise lovable, smart, super-trainable guy down for dangerous behavioral issues that just weren't going to get fixed. That devastated me. I always thought that with enough training, enough money spent, and the right environment that he'd come out of it. But after several years it was clear that he wouldn't. So for the safety of the community, and for our own safety as well, we put him down. I can't recall anything in my life that crushed me more. It's one thing to put down someone who's already on their way out. Quite another to execute your friend because you can't up with any other solution.
I knew a stray who was like a protective (but respectfully distant) shadow to another female dog. Then the female dog died.
I think I learned a thing or two about relationships from these two.