Cricket was my familiar, my baby, my little soulmate. We chose each other and stuck together like glue.
When I got Cricket from rat terrier rescue, she was already about six to eight years old. I thought I was in for heartbreak by adopting a middle-aged dog. Well, I was, but not because we got only a couple of years. We got ten years, and I’m so grateful for that. But I was still in for heartbreak because of how much we loved each other and because ten years, or twenty, or thirty would never have been enough.
Cricket as I remember her best: confident and direct. The other dogs disliked her direct gaze.
Cricket was a robust little thing. Only 12 pounds, but sturdy, intense, brave, and frankly, bitchy to other dogs. Even with limited interactions between the two of them, Cricket managed to intimidate my very pushy puppy Clara, who quickly grew to be more than three times Cricket’s size but never even thought of messing with her.
Cricket never had many health problems. The worst thing that happened was that she would repeatedly scratch her cornea when rolling in the grass and had to wear a cone on her head for long periods during the summer. And as she aged, she developed neurological weakness in her hind legs. But that was it, man. Otherwise, she was healthy as a tiny, sturdy horse.
So as bad luck would have it, this strong little dog who was aging so well and was so physically strong started to lose her mind instead.
I had some experience with dementia since my mother had Alzheimer’s, but I had no idea dogs could get it until then. I tell the story of Cricket’s diagnosis and how I learned about dementia in my book. But that’s not my focus today. Most of the people who come to this website are already struggling with the thought of euthanizing their dogs. So I am going to skip ahead, over our wonderful years together, and go to the end.
There’s that look again
I have to be honest. I could talk about the tragedy of canine cognitive dysfunction and the pathos of watching a dog’s mind deteriorate. Those things are real and commonly experienced by owners. But in my case, once I learned what was going on, I rolled with it. Goofy and mixed up, she was still my little Cricket. She was still essentially herself. I do realize now that, while I had to deal with some pretty difficult symptoms (like her pooping on the rug and walking around in it almost every day), we had it easier than a lot of others. She actually slept at night. She got quieter instead of barkier, to the great relief of my other dogs.
But this is the hardest thing to explain: I wasn’t really that sad about her dementia. Of course, I wished she had all her marbles. She had been such a sharp little dog. But I could and did accommodate her decline. She lived for two years after her diagnosis. I couldn’t be sad all the time. I loved her fiercely. She was still 100% my little girl.
I started agonizing over the decision of when/whether to euthanize her pretty early in the game. She scratched her cornea again when she was 15 or 16, and since by then she couldn’t cope with the plastic cone, I thought I was going to lose her. Over a scratch in her eye! But I found another kind of device she could wear that prevented her from bothering her eye, and she healed up and was fine. Whew. Thank goodness for the inflatable doughnut.
But from then on, I was always assessing. Was she happy? Were her days mostly positive? Was I being selfish by keeping her with me? Was she miserable because of her declining mental capacities? I checked with trusted friends regularly to make sure I wasn’t unduly biased.
Through observation, I determined that she wasn’t bothered by her decline. She didn’t know about it. This is true of many humans with Alzheimer’s as well. Not all, but many. There is even a name for the syndrome of not knowing you have something wrong with you: anosognosia. It is actually a typical symptom of dementia. And to all appearances, Cricket had the doggie equivalent of that.
I feel confident in reporting about typical attitudes in the U.S., and these may be prevalent in most other English speaking countries as well. People who can afford to give their pets good medical care usually decide to euthanize their pets when they won’t eat and start to waste away. If we feel like we can control the pain of whatever condition they might have, we take “not eating” or sometimes “unable to walk” as the main turning point. But I have come to observe that many pets are already living with pain and a poor quality of life before they refuse food or become too weak to walk.
I started listening to wise people like Blanche Axton and Sue Matthews, who both wrote beautiful pieces about their attitudes towards euthanasia and were kind enough to let me reprint them in my book, Remember Me. I think the chapter where the three of us tell our stories gives more comfort to people than any other.
They—and I—don’t want to squeeze out every last day our pets can handle. We want to help them leave this life before the final decline. The saying, “Better a week too early than a day too late” has become my mantra. I imagine this is shocking to some people. We all need to make our own decisions about this. But I bet also that to some people who are struggling with guilt over a dog with dementia it can be a great comfort.
In 2013, Cricket could no longer go on a real walk (she circled instead). She got trapped behind stuff and paced or circled much of the day. But she still went to work with me most days. She had a good—a great—appetite. And she still knew me. This was pivotal for me, and I don’t think I was being self-centered. She had gone through periods of anxiety early in the onset of dementia but seemed to have passed through them. The medication she was on, selegiline, probably helped. But I feared the day she would forget me. Maybe the anosognosia would help there, too. Maybe she could keep sailing through life just fine without me. But I didn’t want to risk it. So that was one benchmark I was conscious of. I wanted to let her pass out of this world before she forgot me, lest she would become anxious again.
A friend remarked how she always stayed close to me. When I was present, she would toddle up (remember the rear end weakness) until she could sniff my leg to make sure it was me. Then she would stick around with me. She would stay with her head right next to my leg, her nose often touching. This was such a comfort to both of us. And a signal to me of what was important to her.
In the spring of 2013, I observed that she enjoyed our time together outside less. She had lost most intention. She still peed when I took her out, bless her heart. But after that, she would simply walk downhill, wherever that took her. She had little volition. And she was less interested in smells. In late March she forgot how to drink water. She still had an appetite and ate healthily, but she had forgotten how to drink water. I made all of her meals into soup with milk or unsalted broth, or just water in a pinch. She continued to eat with gusto and I kept her hydrated that way. But I knew her quality of life was teetering.
She grew frailer. She had no metabolic or internal problems that I knew of, but her rear end weakness was making it harder to walk. Her balance was poor and when she did walk she had no idea where she was going. I knew the time was coming, and I obsessed about when. I was proud that she was still at her lifetime normal weight of 12 pounds. She was still eating great. When might that change? What else might change before that?
People often say that the dog will “tell you when it’s time to go.” My opinion may not be a popular one, but I believe that when we wait for dogs to tell us, we have often waited too long. So many dogs are stoic. The day they lose one more pound and look more emaciated, can’t get up to stand, or look at us pleadingly may well come after they have already suffered. We can’t eliminate all suffering, but we don’t have to force them to go down this road, either because we want their companionship or we feel guilty taking our beloved dog’s life.
So I didn’t wait for a signal from Cricket. She was cognitively impaired, after all. I can be sentimental and romantic, but I won’t do it at my dog’s expense. It’s a romantic thought that the dog will know when it’s time to go and somehow convey that to you. I decided not to count on that.
The day Cricket had a major seizure, I decided to euthanize her. That, to me, was the turning point that indicated we were looking at a downhill slope in her quality of life.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I decided to euthanize her immediately. I didn’t try for a sweet last day or night. The weekend was coming up and I didn’t want her to have more seizures. And I had already been trying to make all of her days sweet.
These are some of the hardest words I’ll ever write, but Cricket didn’t go easily. The vet had to use six times the normal dose of the drugs to euthanize her. There was a point during the process where, if I could have, I might have changed my mind. But I was afraid she would be left with permanent damage if I tried to reverse the process. In the end, I still think my decision was the right one. But when she sat in my lap, alertly looking around, after the first dose—double what should have euthanized her—it was agony.
On the other hand, I had long known that this was the way she would go out of the world. She was tough—terribly, terribly tough—and full of life. She wasn’t going to make it easy for me. That’s who she was.
It is very, very hard to euthanize a dog who can still walk, will still eat, and has it in her to growl at the vet. I can’t count how many times people have come to this site with a dog who is in very late stage dementia but the person is convinced that they are being selfish for considering euthanasia. These people don’t strike me as selfish. Not at all. I think in some cases, euthanasia is the most unselfish things we can do for our dogs.
Dogs with metastatic cancer or end-stage kidney disease are obviously ill. We can see their suffering. But sometimes, when dogs with advanced dementia still have fairly healthy bodies, we can’t see it. But canine cognitive dysfunction is a progressive, debilitating illness, as serious and impairing as many others.
You folks who come to this website are almost all suffering. You don’t usually get a lot of praise or affirmation from the world for all you are doing. But you are heroes to me because of the amount of thoughtful, endless care you provide for your sweet, ancient, confused dogs. I wish for peace and comfort for all of you and for your dogs.
Cricket in her prime
See more resources regarding euthanasia here.
Copyright 2017 Eileen Anderson
115 Comments
Thank you for your article. My Lhasa is 16 1/2 years old and has cognitive dysfunction, is blind and deaf, has arthritis, but still loves his food! He starts pacing for a hour or two before mealtimes. I’m not sure he remembers me much anymore, as he doesn’t bond like he used to. He still wanders around the house, though he sleeps a lot. He needs help going down or up our back step and frankly would get lost outside if not on a leash. Over the last month he has had bowel incontinence where he steps in it and tracks it in the house. Most of the time he will pee outside, but I have a wrap on him just in case. How do I determine his quality of life? He doesn’t interact with people or toys, but he loves his food and treats. Is that enough to say he is happy with life? I’m struggling with whether he should be euthanized as our cold hard winters are going to be tough on him. Some days it’s hard to meet his needs, but I don’t want to end his life just because it’s become harder to take care of him. I’ve also heard “your dog will tell you”. What can a confused dog say as I’m getting desperate to know? It would be so much easier if he had a life altering event rather than this decline.
Dear Julie,
I can really relate to so much you say here. I personally don’t believe the dog tells you. I used to, but I just don’t think they can when they have dementia, and I think even with other illnesses we often wait too long. That’s just my opinion.
I was “lucky” enough that my little Cricket did have an event of sorts, a seizure. But I do suspect she could have gone on for a few more weeks after that. However you look at it, it’s a tough, tough decision. Have you checked out the Quality of Life Scale? Sometimes it is helpful. Take care.
I’m struggling right now. Our little 16 year old Marty (toy fox terrier) is showing all of the signs he has dementia & seems to be getting worse the last couple of days!
He does a lot of circling & pees in the house with no warning. We get him settled in his bed & 10 minutes later he is barking & sitting up Wide awake. He has been known to poop & spread it all over. We have to keep him on a leash or he will fall in our stream because he is mostly blind & deaf. He used to be able to just run free. We have a large property in the country. He had to have all his teeth pulled but still eats well. Doesn’t seem to drink as much lately as he used to. He also has heart issues & eats special food for his kidneys.
We love him so much but At the same time are so frustrated and are losing sleep ourselves because of his behavior & our lives. are slowly being taken over by his needs. It makes me feel very selfish. We are 70 & 74 & it’s getting more difficult. We had him on a schedule of walking him at 11:15 in the evening & he would do his business & we would bring him in & he would settle down & fall asleep & at midnight we would put him to bed & he would sleep until around 7 am. Now he is having a harder time settling down & waking up 10 min after being put down for the night. Tonight my husband got up with him but was angry & impatient. An hour later I got up & here I am but I have managed to show compassion. My Dad had Alzheimer’s & they just can’t help it. It’s so sad. I don’t want to put him down because I’m being inconvenienced. I feel so selfish. There are times he will let me hold him & rock him like a baby & I feel like it brings him comfort for a few minutes. He sleeps most of the day.
We are going to be going to Florida for 2 weeks & our neighbors will keep him for us but that’s also a concern with his dementia getting worse. They love him too but I’m not sure it’s the best thing for Marty because of change of routine. I feel like we may need to make a decision soon but I don’t Want to do it for the wrong reasons. My heart is breaking right now. I’m not sure I want to wait until it’s worse.
Thank you for your post! It has given me some things to think about. I’m going to try to get him to the vet before we leave for an evaluation.
Dear JoAnn,
I often think the sleep problems are the worst. They affect **everybody** in the household. I can tell you have given him a great life, and in my opinion, there is no shame in preventing suffering or difficulties by helping a dog to pass. But the **when** is so very hard. Good luck. This physical work and impact on daily life indeed get harder as we get older. Please give him a treat for me. Toy fox terriers are one of my favorite breeds.
Hello. My girl, Alexis, is a Dachshund/Jack Russell and reached her 15th birthday this year. She has all of the signs, and like yours, she doesn’t bark. In fact, I was thinking a few weeks ago, that I hadn’t heard her bark in a really long time. Her incontinence has steadily gotten worse. She seems somewhat disconnected from everyone and only gets excited when we follow a routine like morning treats. She drinks water like she’s trying to drown herself. She pees constantly, sometimes squatting and not peeing (bladder infection (UTI) has been ruled out).
Out of the blue she shakes uncontrollably. Then, she’s fine and relaxed again.
It’s those flashes of excitement and my sense of obligation to care for her that prevents me from choosing euthanasia. You were right on in that we all want a “sign” or a trigger that will tell us the moment it’s time to make the big decision. So far, it’s been death by a thousand cuts…and I’ve stopped counting.
Dear Josie,
I’m sorry for my very late response. I lost three messages and yours was one of them. I’m sorry about Alexis. You are spot on in your description: death by a thousand cuts. I hate that but it sure can be true. I wish for you some good days with her and–if the time comes–some clarity. Hugs.
I share your struggles.i found a way to help the night time getting up, I sleep next to her on the floor
unlike conditions that are obvious to euthanase ,( last week my girl lost use of its front leg, it was clear to end
her suffering- then she recovered.) this isn’t. its a rollercoaster, its a good day then a bad day
its ending a life that is not clear cut, probably the most difficult decision im living with, people say you
know when its time, my vet said pick a condition/behaviour that you see as enough and stick to your decision.
my thoughts are with you
Dear New Friends,
Now five weeks after my heartwrenching decision to send Sophie Girl over the Rainbow Bridge, I am still mourning with more pain and sadness that i have ever experienced. My dear friend advised i talk to 🐶,which i have been doing everyday.
I am getting better and keeping busy and helping others helps. I will wait a year to decide if i will share my heart with a doggie
Sophie was my 5th rescue and MY having to make the decision to euthanize her has contributed to th guilt i feel. I was sleeping with her for her last 5 months ro help her with her late nite 2 hour pacing, pooping & circling. Sophie was not happy anymore.
Now she is happy, and my sadness is a bit better. Hang in there, talk to your beloved departed, and it is ok to cry. Other doggy lovers have been very supportive and understanding. My prayers & thoughts are with YOU,
BEST,
Roberta
Thankyou, I have been waiting putting off the inevitable. Our Possie (pug) is 15 she is the light of all of our lives, she holds a extremely strong bond with our 22 year old daughter and I think for the most part I haven’t made that dreaded decision because of this bond. But the last few weeks she has deteriorated a lot, she has developed cataracts that weren’t there a month ago, her back legs are weak and can no longer get onto my daughters bed ( her favourite place)she has lost weight and gets lost walking around the house, she then starts to bark constantly until someone goes and shows her how to get out of the room she’s in, she looks at us like she doesn’t know us at sometimes, she seems to have lost her spark and I know I need to make that choice and that she’s not going to tell me when she’s ready. But tonight after 2 days of no interest in food and all of the above I had a long conversation with the rest of the family with lots of tears from everyone we decided we are going to try and treat her with everything she used to love food wise, try and show her all the love she’ll let us show ( she doesn’t have much interest in affection)for the next 2 days and then take away her pain and suffering. I know I’m going to need all the strength in the world to take her to that appointment but I know it isfor the best. Your article has helped me make that decision, I don’t want her to suffer anymore.
Dear Melissa,
I’m so sorry you are facing this. I’m glad the article helped a bit. Sending warm thoughts to you and your family.
Hi,
I hope you don’t mind me commenting but I just wanted to say I was in the same position however my mum let me make the decision. I’m 26 and my Yorkie was my best friend – she had been with me through my late childhood (I got her when I was 11), my parents splitting, the angsty teenage phase, everything and our bond was truly unbreakable. She would always choose me over anyone else in the room, lick my tears if I cried, slept on my bed but she too wasn’t really interested in affection at the end and struggled to get into my bed. I made the decision to have her put to sleep because I didn’t want to see her in pain and although I miss her every day, I know that I made the right decision. My life will never be the same but I have the best memories with her and if I’m honest, I had been missing her for a long time before she physically left us.
I sympathise because I didn’t have to go through a lot of the deterioration you have described, she was definitely getting there though (the cataracts and confusion especially). I’m sure your daughter wouldn’t want the pet she loves so much to suffer because of the selfishness of wanting to keep them around. This is honestly the struggle I had but I do think that in the end, I made the right choice and it sounds like as a family, you will get that kind of peace too.
I still wish there was something we could do to keep our friends with us for the rest of our own natural lives but unfortunately we can’t and they rely on us to make the best decisions for them. It won’t be easy but I promise that you’re doing the right thing.
Thinking of you and your family at this difficult time.
Lauren
Dear New Friends,
Connecting with YOU all after the 41 days since my Sophie Girl has gone over the Rainbow Bridge , has helped me immensely! Today was the very first day that a smile came to me before the tears, when reminiscing about my beloved darling doggie!
I began to recall some good happy memories of days gone by emwhen Sophie was happy.
Now, I believe I will hold onto the past good memories.
The bond that we all fortunately shared with our beloveds will live on
Best to YOU ALL,
Roberta
Oh thank you so much for this! Please, if you can, reach out to me. I have stumbled across this article, I’m not sure how, be we are struggling with our 8year old Jack Russell, Emmy. She is only 8 & is in normal decent health. She has a history of seizures and initially we thought this strange behavior was just that. She has been shaking..much like shivering when cold, we thought that was due to some visitors we had over. But none of the symptoms stopped. She paces for hours throughout our house and she will make a pass on her way to go by me, but what was once a very snuggly, plump, dramatic, needy little princess…has become this poor little, skinny, mindless wanderer that cries when we pick her up and yelps at us when we put her down or just out of the blue sometimes she will yelp at us. It’s as if she is saying, “just leave me alone”. & she walks and walks. Many laps, ending in a circle. Sometimes she puts herself in the corner and just stares until she seems so tired, she’ll lay down and sleep. When she’s sleeping the shivers set in and with every breath her muscles contract. I can’t imagine she’s rested. We have been putting off euthanizing her. We keep thinking maybe there is something else we can do for her. Maybe we aren’t doing enough and what if we put her to sleep and we could’ve somehow helped her…after all, she is only 8 years old.
Please, if you could offer any insight, we would so greatly appreciate it. We have taken her off all medication (I thought the phenobarbital she was on was causing ill effects, even though the vet said her levels were fine). Fortunately, she has not had any seizures in at least a month or more. We miss our baby, but we don’t want her to suffer. We just don’t know what to do.
Misty, I’m so very sorry. Has the vet done tests regarding these new symptoms? There are other conditions that can cause these besides dementia. I’m so sorry you are going through this with a dog so young. I will email you too in case you don’t see this response. Take care.