When Should You Say Goodbye to a Pet?

Amy’s vet referred her to Kennedy because Jingo had been diagnosed with tracheal collapse. The rings of cartilage that held open his airway had weakened, and he’d developed a honking cough that could quickly devolve into gasping. Amy hated watching him struggle. “These near-miss moments happen and you wonder, Is this it?” she said.

“What are the main challenges you have with him?” Kennedy asked.

Jingo wandered the house at night, Amy said, getting lost and howling for help. He had chronic nausea, and the medication for it made him groggy. Amy, fearful about his breathing episodes, had begun to work from home, and installed a Ring camera to keep an eye on Jingo when she went out. She stopped joining her husband for road trips in their Airstream. Amy described herself as “overly attached” to Jingo; still, she didn’t want to prolong his agony.

Kennedy listened to Jingo’s heart and lungs, then suggested a few changes to his medication that might leave him less tired.

“So, here are a few harder questions,” she said, sitting down again. “Have you had to euthanize a pet before?”

Amy said yes, telling us about a golden retriever who had been dying of kidney failure. “I felt so guilty,” she said. “I knew she would have had life left, but it would be crummy. But now I don’t know—I mean, she was still wagging her tail, happy to see me at the door.”

“Kidney failure is so hard on dogs,” Kennedy said. “But a golden retriever will never show you how bad it’s doing, because it’s the ultimate people pleaser.” She paused. “It’s always better,” she added, “to let them go on a good day.”

Amy nodded, looking past us into her dining room. “It’s just so hard,” she said. “Nobody wants to feel like they’re playing God.” She told us about the recent death of her sister, who had suffered a cardiac arrest at work, lost consciousness, and been put on a ventilator. Amy’s brother-in-law told doctors that his wife would never want to live that way; she was taken off life support and died in the hospital. Amy worried that her sister hadn’t been given enough of a chance to recover. “I lost my absolute best friend,” she said, starting to cry. The thought of losing Jingo, too, was overwhelming.

The room fell silent. Amy pressed a tissue against her eyes. Kennedy gently asked, “If Jingo were to be in a serious situation right now, would you—”

“I would take him to the emergency room,” Amy said. “I wouldn’t even think twice. But I wouldn’t want him to be in the hospital. I think it’s a boundary now, but . . .” her voice trailed off. “I just wouldn’t want him to know what is going on.”

“So, if, let’s say, he had to stay there for three nights, just to get fluids or something?” Kennedy asked.

“Yeah, but not stressful stuff like X-rays. And it’s not a money thing, I would never want them to think I feel he’s not worth it,” Amy said, shaking her head.