It had to happen. I had the most challenging and painful task in Dog Support, a much-loved dog was diagnosed with incurable cancer, and her owner asked for help in making the difficult decisions she knew she might have to make.

(Editor’s Note: The name of the dog is not Gina, I take confidentiality very seriously. I won’t name the dog owner at all, or the breed or the location.. I share some of the stories believing they might help others.)

First, how to make sure the dog doesn’t suffer?

How much could she afford to spend on treatment?

When would she know it was time to let go and help Gina leave the world in comfort and dignity?

Should she tell her two children? Should they be involved in the final decision? At the end, should the dog be euthanized at home or in the vet’s office?

How to say goodbye?

How to honor and remember the dog? How to spend the last day when it comes?

Should the dog be buried or cremated? Was it okay to leave a monument or market?

How best to remember the dog?

What conversations should you have with the vet before it’s too late? And what kind of limits do you wish to set on the costs? Dog health care, like human health care, has gotten expensive.

And how to feel certain that if she chose to end Gina’s life, she was making the right decision?

We had a half-hour planned, but we talked for much longer, two or three times. We reviewed each question carefully; I made suggestions and recommendations, but the decisions were all hers.

I loved working with this woman – she was intelligent, had perspective, compassionate, and determined to do what was best for the dog, not for her.

She understood that letting go is something the most merciful thing to do.

Dogs are more and more attached to us than ever, and there are emotional, financial, and medical issues today that did not exist 25 years ago when dogs were not considered members of the family.

We went through these questions one by one. It was clear she did not want the dog to suffer; it was clear she was reconciled to putting the dog down.

We talked about how you can tell when a dog is in pain. We about finding a dog hospice program in which a vet would come to the house and put the dog down with the entire family present.

We talked about giving Gina a great last day full of juggling and scratching her favorite treats and foods. We talked about taking photos, keeping an online journal, and putting together a memorial album.

We talked about burning the dog’s ashes in the backyard and placing a discrete stone on the spot to mark it, so the family could say hello and give thanks for having such a great dog.

And finally, I talked about how useful and self-destructive guilt is. We are their stewards; we do our best and remember them but move on.

She wrote me this morning, a b beautiful letter that made me feel so good about this work:

She said the family was sad, but they all spent a lot of happy time with Gina over the weekend.

She baked Gina her favorite treat, slices of coffee cake, and the family huddled around her in her favorite spot outside.

The vet who came was wonderful, bounded, gentle, and with wonderful boundaries.

“The morning after was hard,” she wrote, “but I went out for a walk anyway and took photos of things I thought shed like.”

She said she will take some time to grieve, but she is eager to love another dog and will soon begin thinking about one and looking for one.

I offered her some free advice on how to do that thoughtfully.

We talked about grief and how individual a thing it is.

I told her my belief: people who love dogs should have dogs, and I am always grateful for their time with me. I would instead love a dog than mourn a dog. When she was ready to think of that, I said – and nobody but her could decide that – the healing process would accelerate quickly.

I wanted to share this experience because this dog lover did it the right way, took a dreadfully painful experience, and turned it into a loving one for her, the dog and the family. This, in my mind, is how it should be done.

I hear very few people who have lost dogs express thanks or gratitude for them. Many tell me they will never get another dog because losing the one they had was too painful.

This is discouraging to me. Dogs are not about making us miserable. They are about making us happy.

And at the end of the letter, she added that she was all right. “You are doing a good thing.”  She meant Dog Support.

Which was what I needed to hear and appreciated hearing. This is why I did this; this is why I am going ahead with it.

Dog Support can help people; I see that. If you need or want it, e-mail me at [email protected]