06/06/2026
Over the last three years and being open about Jinx passing before I ever anticipated and having to “make the call”, I find that when my dog friends/clients are near the “end”, I’m often asked the question: how did you know?
I mean, how could you know?
It took me weeks to figure out where the pain was.�It took me 48 hours to decide on amputation.�It took me weeks to figure out the right combination of meds only to change them the next week.
And while some people will lose their pet suddenly, I was dealt the long period of anticipatory grief.
I don’t know what’s worse. I don’t like to compare loss or grief. But I can speak from my own experience here.
The 8 months between diagnosis and death was excruciating with grief. The anticipation that I already knew how she would pass, I just didn’t know when. The guilt of making plans, the fear of missing any moment with her, it was all a snowball of emotions.
But the one question that remains in my inbox is how did I know it was time.
My moment of knowing was a glance across the room with Jinx.
I remember exactly where she was, where I was, and time stood still. It was calming, almost a relief. I felt like she had said, “I’m good. It’s time.”
I didn’t say anything. I just had this overwhelming feeling, a feeling I had been scared of and waiting for, for 8 months.
In true Sarah fashion, I had to do one last test to ensure I wasn’t overreacting.
I waited for my partner at the time to get home, wondering if she would greet him. She loved a greeting, and even more so since Rooster had come into the picture, it was a competition.
She did nothing but perk her ears and look for him to come to her.
A finality to my decision.
We planned our last day with her. Snuggles. Pup cups. Chicken nuggets. Illegal off-leash time.
I can’t give you a data point or tell you to “look for xyz,” but I can tell you a few things.
You’ve made decision after decision for your dog since the day they entered your life.
This one last decision, they trust no one more than you to make it.
It’s a privilege to be trusted like that. To be loved like that.
And as your final act of love, there is no perfect way to do it.
There is only doing the best you can with a heart that is already breaking.
When you get the gift to choose, I’ll always argue that one last good day is far better than a bad day.
And if you're lucky enough to have loved a dog this deeply, then you've already spent their whole life proving that you would move mountains for them. Trust that they know it. Trust that they felt it. Trust that, when the time comes, love will guide that final decision the same way it guided every one before it.
