Dog ownership is not all puppy breath and humorous or beautiful Instagram photos of our dogs; there are times when it is breathtakingly difficult. These are the times when it helps to have good relationships with great vets, good information resources, great friends – and sometimes, deepish pockets. (Or at least a credit card without a balance on it already.) My message for today: Remember always that pain and loss is the flip side of dog ownership, the cost of all the joy they bring us. But it’s our responsibility to be grownups and deliver our dogs from pain and suffering when it’s needed.
Amputating my current foster pup’s badly injured leg
Last week, I delivered my foster puppy to a veterinary hospital to have his badly broken leg amputated – and days later, accompanied my good friend and her senior dog to the same clinic for euthanasia. Both visits were emotionally trying – but they both were in service of doing the right thing, the most responsible thing.
The pup I am fostering was brought into rescue with a leg that was broken, the vet estimated, about a month prior. The hock joint was just a smashed-up mess, with all those tiny bones in the joint all smooshed and displaced from where they are supposed to be– and the puppy’s body, of course, was trying to fuse and heal all of that damage, but given the location – in the very middle of his back leg, every time the pup took a step the broken joint would flex in all the wrong ways.
The pup is absolutely adorable and, as these things often go, has a totally sweet, funny personality. Of course the rescue group’s leader wanted to know whether the leg could be saved. The veterinarian who examined him said slowly, “Well, certainly, you could try to go down that road . . . we could get an orthopedic consultation. We couldn’t help him here . . . It would likely take two or even three surgeries, and months and months of healing and pain meds – and even then, the damage is so bad, he’s going to have arthritis no matter what, and it may end up having to be amputated anyway . . . .”
After seeing the x-rays, and talking to the vet, I felt compelled to push the rescue group to schedule amputation ASAP. The puppy was in pain; that was indisputable. The faster we could get him out of pain, the better. Surgery was totally iffy, and would mean months and months of more pain – and the pain of amputation would be pretty much done in a week or so.
I was bolstered in my opinion about this by having had a peripheral role in another rescue group’s handling of another young dog who had a broken leg; my best dog friend here in my town fostered that dog following the dog’s second surgery to repair a broken rear leg (the dog had been hit by a car – and the first repair failed and needed a total and more elaborate do-over, this time complete with bone grafts). The dog was young and energetic and excitable, difficult to keep under control – and she had to be kept on a leash most of the time, even in the house, to keep her from trying to whirl and play and do zoomies. For months and months the dog had to endure assiduous control, at times with pharmaceutical help to keep her calm, and often with pain medication. And despite all this, she was going to walk with a limp forever, and would need another surgery at some point to remove the metal hardware used to hold her leg together. It just didn’t seem worth it. With my encouragement, the rescue made an appointment for this puppy to have amputation surgery a little more than a week later.
But boy, oh boy, did I second-guess this decision all week. Every time I saw the pup put his leg down in what looked like a somewhat regular way, my heart would sink; maybe we should be trying to get an orthopedic consult after all. I was taking video of him at one point and he scratched behind his ear with his bad leg, and I was instantly convinced amputation was the wrong thing. But then I’d see him take a step that would make the leg twist in a sickeningly wrong way, or yelp as the paw hit a bit of uneven ground too hard and the shock would obviously carry up to the injured joint, and I’d feel relieved that we were doing the right thing. Right, wrong, right, wrong, all week.
Making the tough decision to euthanize your beloved dog
Meanwhile, my friend who had fostered that other dog with the bad leg a couple months ago was dealing with a terrible decision of her own: whether it was time to euthanize her senior dog, who had two terrible hips and two terrible knees. She had maintained the dog at a healthy weight her whole life, and maintained strict control over her activities, had supplied the dog with every type of “brain game” interactive toy and food puzzle that exists, had taught the dog a dozen tricks, took her for regular car rides and field trips where she could see interesting sights and smell interesting aromas, all in a low-impact way . . . but Lena’s body was finally just giving out altogether. She collapsed suddenly one day, horribly, and couldn’t get up. My friend brought her to an emergency appointment – on a Sunday, as these things tend to go – and Lena’s x-rays made the veterinarian shake her head sadly: so much arthritis, those hips, compressed vertebrae – it was a wonder my friend had gotten the dog to age 12.
My friend made the final appointment for Lena for the following weekend, and, all week, gave Lena extra meds for pain and a ton of all her favorite foods, the ones she had to enjoy in tiny amounts her whole life in order to keep her weight under control. We planned a field trip for Lena and Otto, who had played and romped together when they were both young, to a spot in a nearby lake that is shallow and warm, where you can drive right up to the water. We put her life jacket on and she and Otto spent nearly an hour just sort of float-walking around us in the shallow water, not quite swimming, just barely touching their paws to the lake bottom. It was bittersweet, seeing her so happy and comfortable in the water – but knowing how much discomfort she is in every day as she goes about the daily business of life: getting up to drink and eat, going outside to potty, not being able to get up quickly to go bark at the mailman, and so on. And knowing that every day brings more risks of collapsing in pain.
I went with my friend for the final appointment. I have to say that it was absolutely the most peaceful and calm euthanasia I have ever been present for, and the veterinarian and the clinic responsible have my everlasting loyalty from now on. We had one of the first appointments of the day, and we waited for the vet on a blanket that we spread on a grassy area under some giant oak trees outside the rural clinic. The veterinarian and a technician came outside and, after a brief exam, administered a subcutaneous dose of sedative, and let us sit with Lena there under the trees until she grew very, very relaxed. When they came back out of the clinic to administer the euthanasia solution into a vein on her back leg, Lena barely noticed. Her owner stroked her face and told her what a good girl she was, and she slipped quietly away.
My friend and I agreed – if only humans could have deaths that were as peaceful and painless, with loved ones around us and birds singing overhead. But I know my friend will also second-guess herself. Was it too soon? Could Lena have made it a few more months, was there some other intervention that could have helped?
These are tough decisions – though of course, life and death decisions should be tough. My foster pup is recovering from surgery wonderfully – and the increasing mischief he is getting into tells me he is in less and less pain as each day passes. He gets the surgical stitches out two weeks after his surgery, and a few days later, he will go home to a new family – a mom and dad and teenaged girl who met him a few days before surgery and already love him. I’ve been reading about the care of “tripawd” dogs, and have assigned our veterinarian contributor to write an article about this for an upcoming issue, but I, too, still wonder if amputation was the right thing to do. This uncertainty, too, is part of the price of loving dogs like we do.
Thank you so much for this article.
My dog had a accident she was running and she bomb in to stick causing a really big bomb in her face ….
Do I ever understand the emotions here of amputation. I also took in a rescue dog (later adopted her) but her front leg had been broken quite a while previously while in a puppy mill. The lower part of her leg just dangled when I got her. I too went down the avenue of can we save the leg. After one attempt of immobilizing it to see if we could get some fusion of the bones, it wasn’t to be. The fracture was too old and too close to the growth plate for successful plating. The quickest and best option was to amputate and boy did I agonize and cry over this. Two years later, I know it was the right choice. She doesn’t miss that leg at all and is as quick as any dog her size in running. Nothing stops her. The path however was very emotional.
nancy perfectly captured the price we pay for loving dogs. my heart dog had to have her leg amputated. i kept it around for 7 months while i consulted vet after vet. eventually i met with the right doctor who compassionately informed me that it was the right thing to do. it turned out that she had a rare synovial cell sarcoma. she did great without that useless, painful leg because she had already adapted. we checked her for metastasis every 6 months and thought that we were really in the clear. i told her that whenever that remaining back leg got tired, we would get her a cart. but then, one evening about four years later, she slipped on her way into my bedroom. she was in a lot of pain. the x-rays showed that the cancer was back and growing on her pelvis – even though we had had clear margins after the amputation. i had no choice but to release her from her pain, knowing that treatment options didn’t really exist. she was my best, most serious, friend ever. i wish we’d had more than 9 years together.
I too have had to put down several dogs. It is one of the very worst feelings in the world. When my dog Jagger was diagnosed with leukemia, we tried chemo….horrible. He never responded to it, and I knew it was time. I called our old vet, who is now practicing in California, and this is what she told me: Dogs live in and for the moment. They have no plans or thoughts of “tomorrow”, just the here and now. I cannot describe how much comfort that gave me. His “here and now” was not a happy time for him or I. I knew it was time, and I knew it was right, even though after 9 yrs. I still tear up when I think of him.
My previous dog was 14 years and 9 months when he passed. He had a great life but after a surgery to remove a large fast growing lipoma that turned out to be a mast tumor I asked the vet to continue the pain meds as they were helping him move. While I suspected arthritis they never did the x-rays I requested. He was a big unsteady on his feet and had difficulty getting up and down the back steps. I eventually asked that they increase the meds a bit and we experimented until the dosage was right. Finally they did the x-rays and not only did he have arthritis in his back but they also found bone cancer in his hips. She said eventually the bone will just break. I didn’t want him to get to that point. He had some other problems with his potassium levels. She told me he had a few weeks. I decided to watch him and he’d let me know. I finally made the decision Thanksgiving week to bring him in the following Saturday and second guessed myself the whole time. He had a wonderful Wednesday at my parents’ house, did a full neighborhood walk with their dog and basically said goodbye to all of the neighbors. He even had a little bounce in his step for part of it. But the next day he was clingy and in pain so I called and begged off Thanksgiving dinner to stay with him. It was a good call. We snuggled together all day in the bed. He passed away a bit after midnight that night. I will always be grateful to him for sparing me having to take him in for his last appointment and reassuring me that the appointment I made for him was the right call.
While we’ve never had to do an amputation my parents’ dog did have to have an eye removed due to a tumor. Non-cancerous. But she had already lost sight in it and it was painful for her. Afterwards, she adjusted quickly to having only one. Unlike people, animals just care that they don’t have any more pain. They aren’t vain about how they look and they quickly adjust to doing without whatever it was. I actually saw video fo a dog that had lost both a front and back leg on the same side. That dog managed to devise a way to not only get up and down but run around. On only two legs. Not two back or two front but two side legs. Animals are amazing.
I got an e-mail that this is Responsible Dog Ownership week with the AKC. Part of responsible ownership is not only doing the best for them as long as they are with us, but also letting them go when it is best for them. The hardest and most loving thing we can do is to let them go when we so much want to hold on to them. At no time have I wanted my dog to have the ability to talk to me more than when I am having to make that most difficult decision, if only for them to say “It’s time. Thank you.”
Great post. Thank you.
Our rescue group has had a number of tri-paws. Some came to us with the surgery already completed, many we had to make the decision to amputate. Honestly, to a dog, once the healing is over you’d never know these dogs were missing a leg. They run, they play, they don’t let having three legs slow them down in anyway, shape or form. I’d say you definitely made the right decision for your little foster.
Stephenie, what rescue group do you work with? And are you anywhere near Northern California? I may be looking to adopt in the next couple of months and I have a soft spot for tripawds after my last German Shepherd. I also like to give a chance to the dogs many won’t adopt.
This is another teary read! Have a 13 year old lab mix who was diagnosed with Lyme last year – this year has a skin condition that we just cant get a handle on. Luckily it isnt irritating her – just doesnt look very good. We went thru a bout with diarrhea a week or so ago, but taking solid food away for a day plus an antibiotic has cleared that up. Of course she sleeps a lot but FOOD is very important to her (as always) So we will keep keeping on until she says its time.
Always good articles here & really great comments from all who feel the way I do.
My last beloved dog was a tripod when I adopted her and had, by that time, totally adjusted to her situation. She was funny and could move around quite quickly. I’m using the past tense because, without warning, she began having multiple seizures one weekend and I had to make the decision to euthanize. It was a peaceful goodbye but I still miss her terribly.