When I was 11, I wanted to be a veterinarian.
Playing with animals all day seemed like a fun gig.
When I heard that, I thought,Oh no!
I dont want to be a homeless veterinarian!
Ive never figured out how to make it hurt any less, but I have learned what to expect.
Fido gives you love.
You give him food, exercise and medical care.
The last item becomes exponentially more invasive and expensive as Fido gets older.
When your pets last days approach, be open with your partner and your vet about setting limits.
Talk about those limits in age-appropriate ways with your kids.
Dont Wait Too Long
After my first quarter of college, I returned home for the holidays.
I went into the kitchen and called my dad to ask if he knew the dog was dying.
There was a plan for an executioners trip to the vet.
Later, my brother and I dug a grave in the backyard.
My dad returned home in time to preside over the rainy funeral.
Twenty years later, I was the dad.
Our cat Rex was dying.
It felt too soon, even though he was 16.
I didnt want him to die, but he did a lot of things I didnt want him to.
I hated every moment, but someone had to end his pain.
And someone had to spare my children from finding their cat, limp on the dining room floor.
Its that much harder if the death is sudden or accidental.
Realizing that life can be unfairly cut short is painful.
Letting kids feel pain is one of the hardest things to do as a parent.
Answer any questions your kids have about why Fido died.
Encourage them to talk about the feelings of fear and anger they might have.
Offer comfort by crying with them.
Sarah McLachlanwill guilt youinto saving a suffering, innocent animal.
Organize some kind of rituala burial or memorial serviceto provide closure.
Encourage each member of the family to write their own list of 10 good things about the dearly departed.
The commonalities will bind you together.
Unique items will give you insight into the reasons your kids loved their dog.
Ill tell you 10 good things about my cat Rex.
He loved everyone he met, even the children who invaded his house.
He ran away once, but stayed in the neighborhood so that we could find him again.
His meow was a chirp of vocal fry.
He was wild about rotisserie chicken.
He loved naptime snuggles on the couch.
He sang Im a Little Teapot with me, offering a strangled meow for the final out.
One day, I went to the back door to grab the paper.
Instead I found a cat.
He let himself into the apartment and into our lives.
Out of all the people in the neighborhood, he chose us.
How could I not love him?
