Dan,

I am so glad you put this out here.  When I wrote that I was really torn about the wording.  Put to sleep sounds so kind, put down is a little less "nice", there are so many other words I could've used, but in my mind, the reality is I would be killing my sweetest boy, my love, a soul who is completely innocent and trusting in me to save him.

It was my anger at Sammy's situation that makes me see it like that.  I am relieved to read of your view, because I hadn't thought of it like that.  He can't ask for help, and I really don't know for sure how he feels about not being able to move, go potty, walk, or get a drink of water without help.  I don't know when he whines to me if he is in pain, or just asking for help or for me to give him something.  You are right, this journey has brought he and I so much closer, the stakes are now so much higher because of our connection.  I would do anything for him, if he asked me to end his suffering, it would crush my heart, but I would.  I even have considered in the last couple of days finding him a home with someone who could give him everything I cannot to get better.  That would be as painful for me, but I would know he was safe. 

The thing with that choice is, he loves me too, he may feel I abandoned him and I think we need to see this life through together.  I don't know if that is selfish or not.  I think of King Solomon's story about the mothers who both claim the baby and the real mother is willing to give him away instead of having him split in half.  I know Sammy would love whoever he was with, he is just a wonderful boy.  But, in my heart, I believe he would want to be with me.

So, thank you Dan, and Shanna and Pam.  I love it here, because we DO all know how this feels and can find compassion and help from the best of people. 

Elizabeth and Sammy

I will share what our vet told us when we took Abby in for that last appointment...

She was still very happy - wagging her tail and eating treats like crazy, kissing everyone. But - she couldn't breathe when she would lay down. She had given me The Look that afternoon and I knew she was done. I said to the vet it was so hard since she seemed to happy (except when lying down). He said everyone wants to pass happy and peaceful. (Don't we all kinda hope we'll just drift off in our sleep some day, looooong down the road?) No one wants to die in great pain and suffering. Sometimes people do though. But with our pups, it doesn't have to be that way. We have this great gift to be able to give, to let them go while they are still smiling.

I know a lot of folks say they have guilt from letting their dog go. I don't. (which is odd cuz I'm usually all about the guilt...) But she gave me that look and I KNEW she was done. I'd have guilt if I kept her around any longer, because it would have been for me and not for her.

Big hugs and strenght being sent out to anybody in the position of having to make this tough decision. It ain't easy, but sometimes we have to do things that aren't easy.
Jackie, Angel Abby's mom

Having gone through this same gut-wrenching decision just a week ago, I know how difficult it is. Making the journey together brings such a bond, almost as if you become two parts of a whole. And saying goodbye becomes more akin to severing an appendage (ironically).

But after all the surgeries and the chemo treatments and the radiation treatments and the testing and poking and prodding that I'd already subjected my Rio to, to watch her suffer unnecessarily for even a moment would have caused me more guilt than letting her go. And although my heart is broken without her, I know I did right by her, and that thought gives me more comfort than any other.

Only you know the best for both your family, your finances, for you, and for Sammy, Elizabeth. And you know if there's enough of the Sammy spark still left to fight. In Rio's case, the light, the spark in her was fading, and I could tell she was just too tired to keep fighting. And you will see this too, in Sammy, when it's time. And then it will feel less like "killing him" than simply saying goodbye and sending him on his way with love.

There is so much wisdom in this thread but I have to comment anyway and at the risk of heresy, I’ll admit that I had way more guilt about Tate’s amputation than I did about putting him down.

We all talk constantly about how dogs live in the moment.  They don’t have the brain parts to think about the future, they don’t even know about death.  That is the joy of dogs, they are in the moment.

When we were faced with the amputation decision, I said, “I just want him to have one more summer at the cabin.”   Would Tate have chosen amputation for a summer at the cabin?  Frankly, that is reduction to the ridiculous.  He was a dog.  I don’t think I could have loved my own child more than I loved Tate…but he was still a dog.

On the day that he died, after I had sobbed and paced and wailed and cried myself to exhaustion, I fell asleep.  When I woke up, I was sitting up in bed just considering everything that had happened, losing my mom, losing Tate, wondering why and being sad.  And then I had this perfectly clear thought about Tate:  “The amputation was for me.”

I resisted this.  After all, that would be the ultimate selfish act, right?  I’ve spent a lot of time on this, a lot of time thinking and reading about and honestly, trying to convince myself that I did it for Tate, not for me.  But that’s not true.  I did it for me.

So I had this guilt thing going.  I needed Tate, more than I can explain.  If I’d lost him last spring, it would have been unbearable, I would have been crazy with shock and grief.  I couldn’t have taken care of my mom.  I wanted Tate to be there with me through the last months of my own mother’s life. 

I thought about my mom, about how my siblings and I made every hard decision by the guideline “What is best for Mom?”  “Best” did not mean the longest life, it meant the best quality of life.  If you’ve ever had medical power of attorney, you know exactly what I mean.  We do the same for our dogs, but dogs are not people, and it is okay to consider what is best for us and our families in the equation. 

These are hard decisions, no doubt.  And they are also very personal decisions.  But they have to be honest decisions.  Elizabeth, this is not directed at you or at anyone else here.  I truly believe that whatever decisions we make – these are, by definition, right.  This is just some food for thought for everyone reading this that is faced with these kinds of difficult decisions.