When to put down your dog?

My SIL is going through the same thing you are. Her 13yo King Charles Spaniel is not well. He's taking meds, special food, fluid on his heart and just today the Vet found a tumor in his lungs. That dog was all she had when her husband fought Leukemia twice and lost the second bout. She knows the outcome but as of right now she's a mess. Hopefully at the end it will be fast and easy on her.
 
Dogs are very stoic and can appear to be happy & healthy while experiencing pain. By the time they begin to show pain they prolly have been in pain for some time. The decision of when to put down a dog has more to do with our pain over seeing a loved one suffer than to do with the degree of real pain they're experiencing. Just food for thought!
 
I had to put my 14 year old dachshund down three years ago, and I'm still not over it.

He was actually my mother's dog, and he was 9 when she passed. She asked me to find him a good home, and I brought him home with me after her funeral intending to do just that, but he decided he was home. I've never really been a dog person (my wife has always had a Chihuahua as her dog, which I maintain isn't really a dog) but he converted me. He became my constant companion, followed me everywhere, and wanted nothing more than to be by my side. He was the happiest, goofiest dog I'd ever seen. Then, when he was 14, he suddenly went deaf and blind, almost overnight. This happy-go-lucky little guy became a miserable, terrified little dog. He used to love to ride in the car with me, but now it scared him. The vet said there was nothing that could be done. Then he started coughing, and the vet said his trachea was collapsing, so I decided that it was time.

We made an appointment to have him put to sleep, and on that day when we arrived at the vet's office, my wife turned to me and asked what day it was. I told her it was December 20th, and she said, "It's your mother's birthday." It was as if she was calling him to be with her.

I still miss him to this day, and I just hope that I am reunited with him and my mother some day. I don't know if I'll ever have another dog...I don't think there is one that could love me as much as he did.
 
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Over 35 years we have put down 13 family pets. When Ruthie and I cannot sleep at night knowing that they are truly suffering, then it's time.

I've said this before: I, my brother and my dad before us, on the way to the vet's, would stop at a McDonald's and drop a few Big Macs or Filets-o-Fish in the floorboard and let them gorge if they can.

The memory of trying to indulge them at the end, silly it may sound, brings us a small measure of selfish comfort.

There are many members here that know your heartache and we all pray for comfort.
 
...I don't know if it's just Basset Hounds...but we have had several that told us when they were close...they ask to go out...and they won't come back in...they find a nice spot and wait...first one that did it I carried back in...he immediately asked to go back out and returned to the same spot under a tree...he's buried in that spot...
 
That is a tricky one...

If he still enjoys some 'quality of life', I don't think he needs to be put down. But when they have that pleading, yet apologetic look in their eyes because they can't be like you want them to be and you can't do anything to help them, then it's time. But you have to be ready.

Stopping eating is a physical sign.

One of our cat's meowed at me one day, he was old and it was so full of pain, I could tell and I decided right there.

Most of our pets have made the decision easier.

Our wonderful Heidi, poor thing, was broken down as to have no quality of life, but my wife couldn't bring herself to accept it. She looked at me like she wanted me to help her and that broke my heart. After that I decided that everybody else will just have to deal with their feelings, because I wasn't going put off that decision any more.

You have our sincere sympathies. :(
 
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You will know when the time comes. My wife and I have had to put 5 dogs down over the last 25 years and I've cried like a baby over each one. Right now our oldest dog Luke is 15 years old and in the early stages of heart failure. The vet has him on blood pressure medicine and he is doing good but we already know he won't be with us much longer. There's no way on earth I will let my best buddy suffer and when the time comes I will not hesitate to have it done. With all of our dogs I have been very strong and held up well strictly for them until their last breath. Our vet is a really good person and he has cried with me every time.
 
Thank God for dogs! We let them see sides of us nobody else are prone to see. They likewise, give us their all. Got home about an hour and a half ago, took mine for a ride, took him for an unleashed walk on private property, and he comes to see me about every ten minutes with something to play. Laying beside my feet in front of a fan right now, he's finally happy Dad's home.

All I can say is he is my fourth of that breed. They just don't live long enough. Spend all the quality time when you can with your best friend, and love them while they're here. I even love 'em when they're gone. I know this one will age and have to go one day: dread thinking about it.

We all live with pain and suffering, don't we? Thankfully, we have meds and doctors. Do all you can for him. What is his name?
 
Me personally....I would first exhaust all other options. Medicine, surgery....if possible. If neither are possible AND the dog is still happy go lucky with energy and enthusiasm and appetite I'd let him be. It not bothering him enough to severely affect his quality of life.

That being said, this is what I would do based on your explanation of his issues. Only you truly know your dog and what he's like and how he normally behaves

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It's better in these cases to be a little early than a little late.

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It's better in these cases to be a little early than a little late.

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Agreed. Which is why I said it's ultimately up to him since he knows his dog. If that issue only comes up when the dog runs around and runs out of breath then, in my opinion, he's fine. We all get older and can't do things we once did. Doesn't mean we are at the end

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My close friend was with me for over nine years. He was consigned to the local SPCA in a cage that was too small for him. He was a hound and doberman mix. I adopted him. He was a very calm fellow and his temperament was what I liked about him. I was disabled by a stroke and spent a lot of time at home while my wife was at work and my daughter at school. So, he was my constant companion.

Last year, his back legs began to fail. The vet put him on steroid and pain meds. He was able to walk but he struggled more and more to get up. By last Fall, he required me to lift his rear end up to get up. I eventually was holding him up to pee and poop. I knew this couldn't go on. Neither I nor he could keep that up but I wasn't ready to give up. I knew I was trying to fend off the inevitable because I wasn't ready to let him go.

My vet, a very wise lady, told me sometime before that dogs don't know what's coming and live in the present. They don't fear death but they suffer when their quality of life is degraded and they are in pain. We owe our canine friends an easy and painless escape from all that.

So, a few days before my 62nd birthday, I spent a night on the floor giving him my pain med. He couldn't sleep more than a short time before pain woke him up. I knew he was ready and I needed to overcome my own feelings and help him...So, in the am I took him to the vet and he got the ultimate cure in peace while in my lap...I went home and cried most of the day. It hurt a lot and still does. I miss him every day. It was very painful for me but the best I could do for him.
 
Worst days of my life have been the days we've had to put a dog down or one died at home. I still have Gracie's picture as my phone desktop wallpaper. She died Easter morning in 2011.

Get a second opinion. The gallbladder is in the abdomen, below the diaphragm. There's no way the gallbladder is putting pressure on the trachea or bronchi.
 
Thanks, everybody. Actually, today the little guy was doing really good. Running around the yard a little and enjoying himself. And he had that dog smile thing going like in this picture. He's on the right in this 2 year old picture with Heather. After reading a lot of your posts I'm having a more positive feeling here. Based on how it was with our other dogs we had to put down, I think he has some time. Our last Yorkie suffered an enlarged heart suffocating her, same as his gall bladder and enlarged heart is doing, but less so at this moment than with the other dog. Bottom here is his two nemisis' and ocational pals.





 
Been following this thread with interest. Our 15 yr. old BabyGirl should not have made it through the summer with her failing heart and fibrous liver yet she carries on resolutely with her brand of good humor... along with some pretty hefty med doses. Hurts to see her with the muscle tone virtually gone but she still moves well with fierce appetite and pure joy when her people come home.

My wife's coworker informed her that her own little dog passed peacefully at their home last night of virtually the same ailment as Baby. The little dog spent the evening scratching at bedroom doors one after the other until let in and spent time with them all. She retired to her spot and at some point crossed the bridge.
I would be well served if I could show such dignity and compassion at my own end.
 
When my Golden was still alive but clearly sick I was petrified of how'd I know when it was time. Person after person after person simply said "You'll know when it's time." I couldn't fathom it.

Then one night she clung to me like no other. She followed me anywhere I went and when I'd stop walking she would lay down on my feet - with a completely forlorn look. I knew immediately it was time.

It was a very odd combination of extremely sad but confidence it was the right time and the right thing to do.

Best of luck. I was just saying to a friend the other day who is going through this decision for their pet right now that only pet owners truly understand the depth to which pets become a part of our lives.

Best of luck to you.

OR
 
My wife is a Pied Piper for dogs. Living in the country one gets the opportunity to see many dogs & cats that have been dumped off by uncaring folks. Eventually, they all end up here (or at least it seems that way). My wife can evaluate a dogs disposition and can find an appropriate home for it. She's at 100%. Our dogs are all rescue dogs. The 2 we have now couldn't be more different, but they seem to love each other and get along very well.

Just thought I'd lighten up this thread a tad.
 
Here is the last chapter of our last dog's life;
"In the last years of her life, she had arthritis pretty bad, and her mobility became limited. She could go outside and go potty, but had little interest in those long walks she used to love so much. Finally, Kristi noticed a little bump on her nose near her eye and we took her to the vet the next day. Bad news, she had cancer again, this time in the bones in her nose, and even a similar lump on her back ankle. Nose to ankle. Doc was sure of it and equally sure there was nothing to be done, not for a dog of 16 years. She put her on prednisone and upped her pain meds and we lived on, watching the monster on her lovely nose take its toll on her.

Her breathing got worse, and sometimes she pawed at it. We knew she didn’t have long left and we did the best we could to spend as much time with her as we could. Soon enough, one afternoon she couldn’t stop snorting and “reverse sneezing”. It was awful, I held her, and was on the floor with her when the wife got home from work. As she came in, I told her to sit down on the floor with us. I said I think the end is very near now, and we were devastated, but both knew I was right. At about 9:30 that night, Kristi yelled to me and I went running. Hope was bleeding from her nose and her pretty white paws were red with her blood. We knew, and both called our bosses and said we’d be out the next day. She slept with us on the bed that night and we hugged her and told her how much we both loved her, and we knew she loved us, but I think maybe we all three said our goodbyes, she had to know she was dying.

The next morning, we took her to the vet and they knew almost without asking why we were there. They shaved her little leg and put the IV in. I held her while she gave her the first shot which made her sleepy. She looked around and gradually, slowly, quietly laid her head down on my shoulder, her eyes stayed open but she was asleep. I gently laid her down on the table and I held her, my head on her chest, talking softly to her, telling her what a good girl she was and that I would see her again. They injected her and I listened to her last heartbeats and then they just stopped. That was the loudest silence I had ever heard, and my dear, sweet Hope was gone…

We took her home in my towel that she used to love to chase, and Kristi and I dug her grave. When we placed her in, I snipped a lock of her hair and took her old daisy patterned collar off and kept it on a nail in my garage, where the others hung. We buried her, put the tools away, poured a drink and drank to our good dog and had a good cry. It’s fair to say we gave her a good life. She knew she was loved and I believe she absolutely loved us with everything she had."

I wrote down everything I could about her, shortly after she died, as a way to help my heart heal and to be sure to always remember the little details (the rest of the story is much happier, of course), but with dogs, there is always that last chapter, isn't there?

Someone said: "Be sure you are doing what you can to prolong their life, not prolong their death..."

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