Article published (c) Cockerspanielilehti 1/2025 and the author
Text and photos: Annika Kontturi-Salmi
In Cockerspaniel magazine, issue 2/2024, I featured an article about one of the heaviest and most difficult decisions for a dog owner, namely euthanasia of a dog. In the article, I focused on the dog and the dog's quality of life perspective. After writing it, I was left wondering whether the article should be continued. When a dog, for example, becomes seriously ill, we naturally think primarily of the dog and the dog's well-being. What about the dog owner? There are not always listeners or animal lovers in the immediate circle who understand. Virpi Huusko's interview also revealed how many lonely people there are for whom a dog is everything. What happens to them when a dog dies? We also cannot ignore ourselves as dog owners, even if we are not lonely. For most of us, a dog is a family member that is really hard to give up and grief can be distressing. The anxiety and fear brought on by grief can also be reasons why we postpone the final decision for too long. However, it is good to keep in mind that grief is a healthy reaction to loss.
However, it is good to remember that we experience grief and loss as individuals, and situations are always individual. There is no right or wrong way to grieve. In the past, grief was seen as a process that included five to seven different stages, depending on the situation. Today, grief is not seen as linear, although a few typical stages are still recognized, such as shock, reaction, processing, and adaptation.
Another sensitive issue is whether one can grieve the loss of a dog or animal? We dog owners usually understand each other's grief over the loss of a dog very well and can identify with it. However, for example, at work we may encounter wonder or astonishment from so-called "non-animal people", such as "it was just a dog". On the other hand, facing the grief of a friend or relative is always difficult, because even as a bereaved person you can feel helpless. You can't undo what happened, and words won't be enough. It can be comforting to know that the grieving person rarely needs solutions - on the contrary, sympathy and support are enough. For example, you can ask if you can be of help or what the grieving person would like.
In the first stage of shock, the event feels unreal. Even if the dog is already old, has walked stiffly for years, has impaired hearing and vision, has been incontinent, is seriously ill, has had several surgeries, the final decision to euthanize or death can come as a shock. Shock seems to be part of the matter, because we are unable to mentally fully prepare for the finality of death, even if it has been known for a long time.
My first dog died when I was in my twenties. I had gotten it when I was eleven and I felt it was entirely my responsibility (although my parents paid for it and helped, of course). I remember grieving for it for probably a couple of years before I made the decision to euthanize it. It had had two mastectomy operations in its last few years, it had a growth on its tongue and it bit its paw at night. I knew I would have to give it up at some point, but I was too young to deal with it alone. However, I felt that I couldn't give up. The dog had already had two major surgeries that would have been completely useless if I had given up. I felt indebted to the vet who had tried to help. I am quite sure that I would have been helped in making the decision if I had been able to talk about it. In the end, when a vet I knew was on holiday, I made the decision. My father and I buried the dog in a dog cemetery and I couldn't stop crying. I sobbed hysterically. The air was chilly and dark, as it often wants to be, or feels like it.
Another time I experienced grief shock with a young, promising horse that had mysteriously fallen ill, with no apparent illness, but which had lost its ability to walk for no apparent reason. Although it wasn't a dog, I believe many people can identify with the course of events. I cared for the horse for a month and a half, giving it strong painkillers morning and night. Its coat was shiny, its tail was thick, and it would come to the gate to meet me every day, ears pricked, eyes bright, excited about what we would do that day. I cared for it and believed it. It wasn't until a friend from another town came to say hello that a change occurred. She saw that there was no hope, and helped by taking the reins in her own hands. My friend guided me through the difficult decision and the many, many things that needed to be clarified regarding the horse's euthanasia. I was completely in shock, taking care of business, the children, and going to work on autopilot. I can well imagine that a similar feeling would arise, for example, when a young dog gets cancer, an immune system disorder, or when an internal organ suddenly fails. The animal looks healthy and beautiful, making it hard to believe the events are real.
I also experienced such a surprise twenty years ago. My very cheerful, energetic and healthy-looking dog was unexpectedly diagnosed with a serious illness. The dog had an ear infection, which was treated, but the cause was assumed to be an allergy. In the end, the dog was examined and it was found that it was full of tumors in the brain, back and stomach. The tumors in the brain were so large that I had to make the decision to euthanize it due to the risks. It was considered that the tumors could have changed the dog's behavior quickly, so since we had a small child, the vet did not recommend that I take that risk, and there was no hope of recovery at that time. With the life experience I have today, I understand that this can happen, but at the time I was quite shocked. I remember that I was able to take the dog home for a while, but the decision to euthanize had been made. At the time, I was unable to talk about it. Fortunately, my friend came along when we took the dog on its last trip. We walked 6 km. For some reason, I did not want to drive, but walked one last run. After the surgery, I left a new collar and leash in the clinic's trash can. I couldn't carry them home. I also remember selling everything related to the dog for almost free - the groomer, bed, scissors, cage, etc. expensive. I couldn't bear to see them anymore. Afterwards, I regretted my hasty action and when I met a fellow sufferer who was selling his own, I couldn't buy them.
Sometimes it feels like the shock phase comes before death. I have experienced this a few times, for example when a dog's benign tumor turned into an aggressive cancer over the weekend (the surgery had already been scheduled) or when a relatively old dog suddenly started experiencing severe pain and fear. Sometimes things can change in a couple of days. Sometimes there may be a chance to pamper a dog for a couple of days in its last days of life. I have personally found comfort in that when it has been possible. The dog has been given the absolute best treats, taken on favorite walks, lounged on the couch - done what the dog liked. If it has been unwell, the dog has not been left alone for a moment, but someone from the family has been by its side the whole time.
Seeing your dog in pain is excruciating. For example, you notice that painkillers only help for a short while or only weakly. Then, hours later, you notice that this time the direction does not change for the better despite the painkillers. You feel a cold feeling, a shock. It feels like an eternity has passed, but it has only been a matter of a couple of days since you first noticed your dog showing symptoms until it finally got out of its pain. When in these situations I/we have been supported by a calm and empathetic veterinarian, the end has become a beautiful, relieving - even bright situation. In these situations, you yourself have finally understood that the dog came to the end of its days, both mentally and physically, even though it went quickly. Afterwards, you may feel unreal - what really happened? Did I do everything I could? Did I notice the symptoms too late, and so on. In this case, the veterinarian's words and medical explanations are particularly important. It is important to get information about the behavior of aggressive cancer, for example. Aggressive cancer often lives up to its name.
The death of a young dog often comes completely unexpectedly. The world stops and nothing is the same. I have friends in my circle of acquaintances who have lost their young dog in a traffic accident. These situations have been preceded by great joy from strangers or family members who have driven into the yard or on the driveway. It is easy to think that traffic accidents happen on the highway or far from home, for example on a getaway, but in my experience they have happened close to home. These situations can lead to feelings of guilt, even though it is a sad accident. In these situations, it feels unreal when the least expected thing happens. Our basic sense of security can be shattered. Guilt can turn into feelings of anger or fear.
Sometimes death can be a relief, as horrible as it sounds. It could be a chronically ill dog that has been suffering for a long time. The dog has been injected and examined in every way possible, looking for what is wrong. In the end, the examinations have drained the owner's funds. Then the end can be sad, but at the same time a relief. Life can have gone round in circles and in the end there are more bad memories than good ones. This can also happen after the death of an aggressive dog. For example, if the family has been afraid of the dog, has restricted it, guarded it, anticipated it and always lived in tension, then letting the dog go can be a shock and ultimately a relief. Still, the sadness is present.
Sometimes young dogs are also very active. They don't know how to be careful, they taste, climb and run. Sometimes you also get the opposite feeling, that it's a miracle that they stay alive even though they swallow chewing gum, socks, stones, leaves, toys, balls and much more. Sometimes, however, it can be a matter of small things - a dog can survive even if it swallows a tin soldier, but not after eating half a berry. A veterinarian once comforted me that a dog doesn't know how long its life was. It only knows that its life was good, even though it was short.
We grieve individually and sometimes it can be difficult to understand the way someone else grieves, even within the family. While one person sees that another is grieving for too long or is too depressed, another thinks that the other does not care, is cold or too happy. However, grief cannot be measured, and crying is not a measure of grief. Some people cry outwardly, others may cry inwardly. One person wants to talk and reminisce, time after time, while another does not want to talk at all, but focuses on new hobbies or immerses themselves in what they are doing. It can be difficult to take other family members into account when grieving. It can be especially challenging to know how to deal with a child's grief.
Everyone knows their own child best, and families can have surprisingly different principles for dealing with a child's grief. An adult can tell a child about a star in the sky, while another adult tells a lot about the events in detail. The literature recommended helping a child work through grief by helping the child remember (the dog) in different ways; “do you remember when the dog jumped off the pier or ate your father's shoes” -type. The main thing is to enable remembering, even with the help of photographs, and to give the child the opportunity to remember and talk. Grief and abandonment can be heavy feelings, but the sudden disappearance of a dog, for example, can affect a child's sense of emotional security later on, even if it is not talked about.
Another group that can be overlooked is young adults, especially if they have already moved away from home. The dog may have been very important to them in their childhood and adolescence, and it may not come to mind when they no longer live at home. However, the dog has been important to them, so it would be good to offer them the opportunity to say goodbye or to come and take the dog on its final journey. This is exactly what happened to me. I was taking a dog that we all really love on its final journey because of its aggressive cancer. Fortunately, the young vet understood to ask about the family, at which point I mentioned that one of my sons is studying and the other is working, neither of whom lives at home. At his urging, I called both of them and asked if they wanted to come along, and both of them did. Afterwards, I have been grateful to the vet who knew how to be wise from afar.
It's good to remember that you can feel happiness and be happy despite sadness. Beautiful memories can be happy, even if you cry from sadness at the same time. At some point, life wins, so to speak. You can meet other dog owners and their dogs, talk about your own dog and memories. Maybe you can even go for a walk with them or get a service dog. Grief becomes a beautiful message of affection that you felt and feel for your own dog. If you notice long-lasting and strong anxiety in someone close to you or in yourself, and you can't seem to get through everyday life, it's worth seeking professional help.
Whether death was expected or it comes as a surprise, we initially experience shock. Previous losses come to mind and increase anxiety. There are feelings of helplessness and helplessness, loneliness and emptiness. You may also feel anger, bitterness or envy, or deny the event. Ordinary things may lose their meaning, nothing or no one is interested, nothing feels like anything and nothing comforts you. The purpose of life may momentarily disappear. You cannot, and should not, rejoice in anything. You just want to be alone. It may feel like no one understands.
After this acute grief, a quiet adaptation to the loss and recovery begins. Grief changes its form and everyday life slowly begins to flow. The usual everyday things are important for recovery, these old clichés that you have to eat, get up, get dressed, go outside and try to sleep. At first, it can be difficult to meet dog owners with whom you have previously gone on dog walks or to dog shows. All of your dog's belongings, leashes, food bowls, beds and accessories bring emotions to the surface. Someone cleans all the accessories away immediately, while another keeps the water bowl in place for a long time. Waking up early, feeding, etc. routines can remind you of yourself. It may be that when you wake up in the morning, you don't remember that the dog is no longer there. You have had a dream about the dog and only after waking up do the events come to mind. It may be that you buy dog food or rush home from work, until you remember that you don't have a dog anymore and the grief feels surprising again. How long the grieving process takes is also individual and depends on, for example, when you are ready to invite the new family member into your home. For some, it takes a year, while others want it soon.
At some point, you find yourself telling funny anecdotes to your friends or other dog friends. You can look at pictures without crying or feeling sad. You get involved in hobbies, hang out in breed groups on social media and follow hundreds of dogs on Instagram, research breeder lists, go to shows to admire other people's dogs and help your friends with their dogs. Soon, that nice dog friend is in your arms, whether it's your own or a foster dog.
Finally -
💓Every dog has its own place in my heart
and
💚Every dog is a part of my own life story.
Sources:
Duodecim (2020).Suru. Lahti Tuuli (editor). Kustannus Oy.
