As one could predict, I was a bit of a mess last week. Making the euthanasia appointment for my beloved Otto, and being with him until it was time for the final injection, was just impossibly hard. It was the second-guessing that was most torturous – wondering at the moments when he seemed to be doing well whether this was the right decision.
I’ve had several friends whose dogs were suddenly stricken with a condition that either killed them or had an impossible prognosis, making immediate euthanasia the only rational choice. Is it bizarre to say that, as Otto passed his 15th birthday, I started to wish for such an event, a crisis that would take the “Is this the right time?” euthanasia decision out of my hands? But no such event occurred; I had to take full responsibility to decide whether and when Otto’s bad days were outnumbering his good ones. Making life-or-death, suffering-or-release decisions should be difficult, but man, was it taxing. And over the course of the week following I did all the things that humans tend to do when overwhelmed with grief: locked my keys in my car while getting ready for an early-morning walk with Woody and Boone (fortunately at home, where my husband was available to help sort this out once he woke up), couldn’t eat, then ate too much, burst into tears at random moments . . .
Maybe not completely random. Some of the puppies I haven been fostering for the past six weeks for my local shelter had neuter surgery and were up for adoption at the shelter. Two days after my husband and I buried Otto, I was training some new volunteers at the shelter when a young couple and their five-year-old daughter came in, looking for a puppy of a small-to-medium size to adopt. I raced to gather “my” puppies for them to meet in the shelter’s “get acquainted room”– I was disappointed that none of them had been adopted the first day they were available, and any one of them would be perfect for this family. Happily, the family chose one of the pups, and I got to see them preparing to carry him out of the shelter – the whole goal of my fostering and volunteering efforts, right? I said, “Wait! Let me say goodbye!” and I ran over to hold his little face in my hands and kiss him on the nose and say, “Be a good dog! Have a good life!” But then my face immediately crumpled and I barely choked out the words, “Thank you!” before rushing out of the shelter lobby, tears flowing. I wanted that adoption to happen – I practically forced them to take one of the puppies! – but the whole idea of just launching that little life out into the world with unknown people and an unknowable future … it just overwhelmed me for a minute.
People’s kindness also is overwhelming when you’re feeling raw. I would be perfectly functional, and then would receive a text or call from a friend saying, “I’m so sorry to hear about Otto!” and BOOM, the tears would flow freely again. I had cancelled a dog-training class I was supposed to teach the day before Otto’s appointment, and, early this week, thanked the class for accepting the postponement of that session. After class, some of my students (a couple) handed me a gift bag that held a bottle of wine and a fine chocolate bar – and immediately, again, I could barely choke out my thanks. They said, “We know what it’s like, we’ve lost some fine dogs over the years, it always hurts!”
All of your comments and messages, too – thank you, I so appreciate your kind remarks and remembrances of some of Otto’s early exploits. I have been reading them in short spurts, because it’s so emotional. It’s obvious that you guys get it, you’ve been there. Many of you shared stories about your own lost, sainted dogs, and those stories are painful and wonderful, too.
When we make the decision to love a dog, most of us expect to outlive them; the difference in our usual lifespans makes our surviving their death an almost certain event. We know what we’re getting into – that we’re signing up for some future pain – from the outset. And the more we love them, and the more that they love us, the more pain we can expect! So, I’m rolling with all of it – the sudden face-crumpling, on-and-off crying jags, and even the locking-my-keys-in-the-car moments – in memory and celebration of my very good dog. Thank you for allowing me to share him with you for all of these years, and for your appreciation of him, too.
Sending hugs.
It’s only been 5 months for me since I had to let my Snickers go. Yesterday or the day before I get a Happy Birthday Snickers email from Only Natural Pet. Made it all come rushing back and raw again.
We love them with all of our heart but we wouldn’t change anything other than to ask for more time.
It was 2 years last month that we had to make this decision for our greyhound baby. I haven’t gotten over it yet and may never get over it. She was truly my soulmate. Let yourself grieve, those moments when you begin sobbing will become less frequent but will continue for a long time.
Thank you so much for sharing Otto with us, such a truly good, good dog.
Sending so much love,
Lorraine
I am so sorry to hear about your precious Otto. It had me in tears. It is so hard to go through this. I’ve had to say good-bye before. It always hurts.
You were a great Mom to Otto. Two years ago, I had to put down my 15 going on 16-year-old Shepherd/ Chow mix. The most difficult decision ever. But she finally stopped eating. She is always in my heart,
don’t know if I will get another dog again.
I saw the similarity in the decline: pacing, stumbling, boniness. It broke me to take her in and I still am not over that loss. But I will see her again someday.
Thankfully you have other little ones to keep you busy. I recently took in a stray kitten who is quite a handful! But I love her company and taking care of her. Not a dog though, there is something so special about our bond with dogs.
I cried as I read about Otto. I, too, have wished my dogs would pass in their sleep but it was never to be. Sick ones with inoperable cancer and no chemo to help, one as young as 19 months, older ones with organ failures, and even one with an autoimmune disease. Young, old, or middle age, they’ve all be difficult to let go, but we do what is best for them not for us. I am truly sorry for Otto’s passing. It is never easy. Wishing you peace.
I cried years ago when you lost Rupert. Now I’ve cried twice for you & Otto. My family has had many dogs, several have been great dogs. I miss them all, and my face still crumples at the thought of any of these good boys after so many years. All I can say is that we are better people for having had them in our lives. RIP sweet Otto (& Rupe) . Big hug to you, Nancy.
Several years ago I had a rough patch with several animals, cats and dogs needing euthanasia. I had told my old cat that he was going to have to on his because I just couldn’t handle it. As I watched him getting thinner and more frail I realized it was myself that I was thinking of and not him. The receptionist at the clinic who does Reiki went over him and told me that he was ready to leave.
I am so grateful that we are still able to help our animals end their suffering even as ours continues. The joyful moments we shared will always remain with us.
This is our second marriage, and my husband and I don’t have any kids together, so Nash, the majestic muttly mix of GSD, rottie, chowchow, and golden we adopted in Jan 2000 was our first baby. He was three, and lived a good, long, healthy life until late 2012, when he was diagnosed with bone cancer. We helped him cross on 12/27/13, at age 16, and that was the only time I ever saw my macho, redneck husband sob like a baby. I thought I was ready… Nash had come to me, given me “the look”, and so I was the one who had to make all the arrangements. I was the one who had found him, adopted him..he was a momma’s boy. He loved Daddy, but he was MINE. And I was the one who held him and sang him his song as he crossed Rainbow Bridge. That was almost 10 years ago, and it still hurts. It still brings tears, and it still makes me cry. Just like the loss of my rottie in Feb 2020…and I thank God every day I was able to be with HIM before the world shut down. For a while, I know so many weren’t.
I like to think that Nash, Otto, and the rest of us who have loved and lost our dogs are running and playing together in Rainbow Valley, until it’s time for THEM to come get US.
My mom always promised that when it was our time, she’d come get us…and she’d have our babies with us. I can only imagine how many of us will have a herd waiting.
I so feel your pain. I have been through that and every time a friend goes through it, I relive my own moments. I, too, questioned my decision even after I was convinced it was necessary. They are just sooo loved and it is the hardest thing to “let go”. I have loved reading your articles.
I’m so sorry you’ve lost your dear Otto. My heart truly goes out to you. You’ve put into words what I’ve been feeling since I lost my heartgirl my amazing Therapy bloodhound Katie. When we love this much we know we’re going to grieve greatly. And even though we know this when we’re so blessed to have them come into our lives, we do it because we know the love is going to fill our lives and spirits.
Your Otto was an amazing boy and I’ve so enjoyed reading about him. Know how many of us are thinking about you because we care so very much.❤️❤️❤️
It’s so hard to lose a beloved family member, like Otto. I lost my sister suddenly last year and then 4 months later, her cat that we adopted started on a rapid decline and I had to euthanize him. I was devastated. A dear friend gave me a book written by Megan Devine called “It’s OK That You’re Not OK.” It took me several months before I could even open it but there are pearls of wisdom in it. I later did her course Writing Your Grief and that helped me immensely. Everyone experiences grief in their own unique way on their own timeline. However you are feeling is perfectly fine and normal. You had a special connection with Otto and I’m sure he loved you as much as you loved him.
Oh Nancy and family, I am so very sad to read about the beloved Otto. Sending much healing love from Memphis♥️
They need us. And then we need them. And our hearts break when they leave us.
It has been 6 months since we let James go and I still question our decision and wish he was still here. This was the first time I had to make that tough decision – all our other dogs left us on their terms. I currently have a 15.4 yr. old female who I keep hoping will go on her own terms, but I don’t know if that is going to happen. Like James, she lives to eat and is still enjoying her life, although much more limited. I also have an 11 yr. old boy who has never been the lone dog and is bonded to Mellie who will be lost when she’s gone. James was his brother, and he misses his constant companionship. Having 3 young dogs was so much fun! This is the other side of that coin. A lot of heartache. However, I know I will do it again.
I’m so sorry to read about Otto; I’ve loved his adventures and appearances since he was a puppy. It’s hard to determine the right time to let a dog go: having had many older and/or sick rescues, I still feel guilty that I’ve chosen too early or too late most of the times. I’ll miss Otto’s antics and photos. I hope your sadness turns in time to comfort from your many memories.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Sending you love and hugs.
‘Grief is the price we pay for love.’ — Queen Elizabeth II
You describe well so many of the aspects of saying goodbye and your accompanying emotions, shared by many of us. We made the decision to let Buster go when he was in a lot of pain that couldn’t be helped. The morning of the appointment with his vet, Buster was doing better. We thought about postponing the appointment, but we knew his improvement was temporary; we didn’t want him to suffer more, and we realized that it was nice for his last day to be a good one. We went for a walk after getting to the vet’s, and it was a sweet and very sad goodbye, but with the nice note of Buster able to enjoy our last walk. A last hurrah.
To those who think they don’t want to get another dog: of course no pup can replace your unique beloved. But there is room in our hearts for more than one love. I still grieve my dearest departed. My new dog is awesome and very different, with just a few similarities, and it is sweet to have him in my heart along with my dear departeds—and he’s here, and we get to enjoy each other every day. It took a while to develop a deep relationship, but even at first it was a pleasure to get to know him and to work with him in training; this took my attention, and did help ease my grief as he became a new companion—never reducing the specialness of any who came before.
I don’t believe any of us are immune to these very raw, very real feelings. I have made several of the same decisions, have questioned, and still question, every decision. We carry on for the pups still in our care and for the future pups we help and save. Hugs and prayers for you.
Sirius, the Dog Star the brightest star in our night sky, just got brighter. You’ll find Sirius in the constellation Canis Major. There you can feel Otto’s presence. A kind of celestial hug from your boy…
I’m sorry you lost your good friend.
I was heartbroken to hear about Otto – I’ve been a reader for years, and have followed him in your posts and newsletter all along. The love we have for our pups is so pure, it would be impossible for our hearts not to be broken when their time to pass comes. It is especially hard to make The Decision when the slow decline of aging calls us to do so. There’s often not a clear line, just a gradual waning of life quality that is in itself heartbreaking. Sending you tons of love and healing. I hope you find comfort in knowing what a wonderful life you gave Otto.
Dear Nancy,
I am a 30 year subscriber to WDJ and love following the personal stories you share about your own dogs. So I feel that, in a way, I knew Otto and so, to an extent, I share your grief. I have been holding my breath for this sad news since you shared his slow decline months ago.
While it is natural to second guess ourselves, I hope that with time, you will begin to see that the choices you needed to make for Otto were only in his best interest; I was truly moved as I read how many things you did for his comfort in his sunset months. You loved him as much as anyone could love their pup. Please do not be hard on yourself for finally having to make what some would describe as one of the most difficult decisions in our lives.
As I have said to many: when you get that new pup, it’s is the happiest “Hello”….and then…. it will be saddest “Goodbye”.
Please know of my prayers for your healing and your peace as you slowly let go.
Heartfelt condolences for losing Otto. I started to write a comment when you posted the first time but I didn’t make it through. I’m on dog number ten and I find each time gets harder to deal with. So much loss, so much grief, but the love is immeasurable.
Thank you for sharing Otto with us all these years and thank you for your honesty and for trusting us with your pain. Sending hugs and love and peace.
Hi Nancy. First of all, I am heartbroken for you and your family. Losing a cherished pet is devastating. Otto was, and will be, forever in our hearts. Of course, now, when I read WDJ, I will shed tears just as I am now.
I could tell from your previous posts over the past several months that you were trying to prepare for this and, well, you can’t. I have had four goldens cross the rainbow bridge, but the most difficult was my companion and best friend, Brewster. Sadly, he seemed fine (they never complain) and then quickly started failing. It only took two days for the emergency vet to let me know he would not make it and would not be able to return home with me with a catheter. I still miss him so much.
I know he will be waiting for me when it’s my turn.
Nancy, I feel I know you as I’ve read your articles over the years, including Otto. My Heart Dog (Irish Wolfhound/Pyr/Border Collie) died on his 12th birthday. He was still perfect except for not being able to breathe, so you know my heart goes out to you. It is never, ever going to be a good day to say goodbye to those we love. I live each day as if it will be my dogs and cats last as I know you do. My foster puppies and dogs help with the grief as I prepare them for their new, adventurous lives. My DNA has become Dog, as has yours.
“It came to me that every time I lose a dog they take a piece of my heart with them. And every new dog who comes into my life, gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough, all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are.”
~Unknown
I remember when you got him. He was very lucky to have such a good home. My hugs to you. We have all been through this and we know we will get through it, but the pain is real, the loss is real. They will always hold a special place in our hearts.
I remember when I started a new job and I started a conversation with one of my co workers. She had a picture cube on her desk. When I asked her if they were her grandchildren, she told me that they were pictures of all the dogs she has had in her life. Not a bad idea.
Take care. Maria
I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’ve not been through it (yet). I was only finally able to realize my lifelong longing for a dog 13 years ago — after years of SF rental apartments = no dog. My late husband and I had our yorkie together from her tiny puppy days. It was such a relief to me to still have her after we lost him. A year and a half later I came home to find her dead, under the covers on my pillow. It was devastating. I went through both the feeling that I just wanted to have been with her and the feeling that I was relieved I did not have to make the choice. Within a short number of weeks I adopted another dog. Just looking at the search results on Petfinder made it crystal clear to me that I wanted a dog in my life and there were too many dogs who needed someone; no reason to wait. I got my fabulous Mr. Fitz from Muttville Senior Rescue in SF. He was a young “senior” then at only 8. He’s 11’ish now and the most perfect dog. Just recently we welcomed in a 14-year old morkie — so only up to my third dog now. Getting to know her has, of course, gotten me thinking about whether I’ll have to be the one making That Choice soon. Reading about your experience with Otto has helped me process the whole of it. Thank you for sharing. I still don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make that call. But Mr. Fitz and Lily are worth having to find out.
Nancy, you are truly a Godsend – not only to the many dogs you’ve helped and loved over the years – but to those of us that really get that the privilege of having a dog in our lives is one of life’s great joys and blessings. Even though this post and your last one that was such a beautiful tribute to Otto made me sob from feeling your pain (and mine), I am so very happy to be a comrade in dog loving. Like you and others, I’ve been owned by many dogs throughout my life and there have been a few very special, very good ones. I lost my best boy 2 years ago and it still hurts some days as though I’d lost him yesterday. I know that sudden and unexpected rush of grief that collapses your face and brings that cascade of tears and pain. Still happens after all this time. But it’s worth it, isn’t it? I am so grateful to have had him and all my dog companions in my life even though the pain of losing them is almost more than I could bear. I truly hope hearing from others of like mind and heart helps you as you travel through the inevitable grief journey. A big hug to you as well as a huge thank you.
Just wanted to say again that I totally understand what you are feeling, and sadly, it lasts a long long time. I still grieve at times for my two huskies who died two years apart, in 2016 and 2018, and even though I now have a one year old Pomsky who just celebrated his first birthday. Of course, loving him helps, but he can never replace the other two, and I can , 5 years later, still dissolve into tears over one or the other. They are all different and unique, and almost daily I realize that this little guy, as sweet as he is, isn’t them. I have found that the love for a dog is different from the love for a human person: it is far more immediate, and gut wrenching and raw to feel their loss. I wish you alll the best as your weather this new loss. I wish you more puppies, who grow into wonderful friends for life.
Nancy, I loved your stories about Otto over the years. Rather than another kind wish that brings the inevitable tears, I’ll tell you how I deal with the losses. Most of my dogs were given a “voice” when they were with me, so they could comment or complain: the snobby scholar, the Jersey punk, the shy northern county boy, the southern social butterfly. They still talk about made up adventures, and tell me how content they are at The Bridge, and sometimes how they miss me, and sometimes how a sibling is still annoying them. Sometimes the right fantasy can stop the tears. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not a fantasy at all. I hope this gives you a reason to smile.