How to Know When It's Time to Put Your Pet to Sleep

I have software on my custom pet urns website which shows me some interesting things: how people find the website, where their service provider is, how long they were at the website, what search they performed to get there, and what pages they visited. I’ve had lots of folks get to the website by searching on “how to know when it’s time to put my pet to sleep.” It’s a common but perplexing question for pet lovers.

The answer is you don’t ever really know because your pet can’t tell you how it feels. I’m not an animal expert, and I’m not a veterinarian or even a vet tech, but I’ve had lots of pets, and none have died of natural causes. I can tell you that I’ve read that it’s part of an animal’s self-preservation to try to conceal pain or injury. If an animal is disabled or weak or injured, and another animal can sense that, then the injured animal becomes easy prey. So, it makes sense that if your pet is not feeling well or is in pain, it will try to keep other animals, even animals like us, from finding out. And it’s our nature, because we love these pets and even think of them as surrogate children, to want to keep them with us as long as we can. Not just because we love them and don’t want them to die, but also because we can’t bear the thought of our daily routine without them.

At the same time, we ask the question “how do I know when it’s time to put my pet to sleep?” because we don’t want them to suffer. It’s easier to tell there’s a problem if our pet has been diagnosed with a terminal disease or is unable to get up or to eat or has some visible manifestation of sickness. And if you really don’t know what to do, ask your vet. He or she has knowledge and experience that can guide you in your decision.

Of course, you don’t want to put your pet to sleep while it still has decent quality of life, but you should never let your pet suffer unnecessarily. One of the dogs I rescued was diagnosed with cancer six months after I had brought her home. She was just starting to feel like part of the family. The night I learned of the cancer was one in which she woke me up coughing. The coughing continued until she was coughing up blood. We got her in the car and drove her to the emergency clinic. She soaked the sheets in the back of the car. My roommate drove while I sat and tried to comfort Dolly but was unable to do anything to help her.

After learning that she had cancer, I took her home with various drugs. She was okay for about a month after the diagnosis. During that time, she was still able to do the normal things, like eat, drink, play, sleep, and walk. One day, she had no interest in playing ball, which she had previously enjoyed. She no longer wanted to play fetch with my other Lab, Maddie, and me. Soon after that, she became picky about what she would eat. I started getting her special foods to coax her to eat. Some days she seemed like her old self and I told myself that maybe the vet was wrong and she would get better. Then she’d get worse and I’d get sad again. Finally she wouldn’t eat anything, not even a special treat like a steak.

After a whole day of refusing to eat, which also meant she wasn’t getting her medicine since I put it in her food, I knew it was time to take her to the vet’s. I made an appointment for the last evening slot. I spent the day talking to Dolly and sitting with her on the floor while working on a pet urn for the ashes of a customer’s Staffordshire terrier. All that day I knew what I had to do and I felt guilty that I was going to do it, especially since she didn’t know what I had planned. I knew the other options to keep her alive were no better. Keeping her alive would just be for my benefit and wouldn’t make her feel any better.

It seemed wrong that she should be able to walk to the car to go to the vet’s. I took a friend with us because I knew it was going to be hard for me. Seeing Dolly sitting up in the back seat looking out the window was heartbreaking. When we took her into the vet’s, I actually asked how long she could live without eating. I still didn’t want to say goodbye. But I knew I had to do it and I knew it was the best thing for her. I left the room while they put in the IV and gave her the shot to sedate her. Then they called me back in because I’d said that I wanted to be with her in her final moments. I was the only family she had and I didn’t want her to be with strangers, even though they were very kind to her. So I stroked her head and told her what a good girl she was over and over until they told me she was gone.

The lesson I am learning over and over in this life is how to let go. Whether it’s throwing away something that I no longer use or need, or not being able to move on after a break up, I have a hard time letting go. When it involves the death of someone I love, I feel a profound sense of loneliness and of having no one understand how I feel. For a while, it seems there is no one or nothing that can comfort me. And yes, I feel these same feelings whether I’ve lost a pet or a person.

Knowing that you are doing the right thing doesn’t make it easier to do, and it doesn’t make you feel the loss any less. What it can do is give you permission to forgive yourself because in ending your pet’s suffering you have brought about your own and that is a self-less and noble thing to do. Forgive yourself, and when you’re ready, please find another pet to love, not for you, but for the homeless pet that needs a loving and compassionate friend like you.