Many people are made to feel guilty because they love their pets so much. My take on it is that God intends us to love our animals—of course, not more than we love people—but still, that love is God-given. The pain of letting our pets go is great because God made them to be precious to us.
Knowing the Right Time to Say Goodbye
We have a right over animals that we don’t have over human beings, including ourselves. We have the right to euthanize animals for their sake, and indeed it is more than a right—at times it is a heartbreaking moral duty.
Sometimes the best stewardship is relieving our pets’ suffering. It helps me knowing they have a Master in Heaven who loves them. When an animal is clearly suffering with no hope, we need to do the hard but necessary thing. Our pets trust us to act in their best interest. We should trust God the same way.
My advice to other pet owners is that you’ll know when the time comes. If there’s a sudden turn for the worse (or it could be gradual), you’ll see it. Each of my dogs had a look in their eyes when it was time. It’s important to reduce the suffering for both you and your pet, and to not have too much trauma at the end. Sometimes it’s not great pain but the lack of functionality, such as not being able to walk or poop or pee or control it. When it becomes really obvious, calling the vet a day early is better than a day late—better for the pet and better for your family.
Our Golden Retriever Maggie was the happiest dog I have ever known. But by the end of her cancer, she was not herself and lost her love for life. How did Nanci and I know the right time had come to let Maggie go? Her breathing was becoming more difficult as the tumors in her neck grew. One night as she was struggling, I suspected it would be her last night. In the morning, Nanci and I had the dreaded conversation. I made the call to an in-home vet.
While we waited, I took Maggie for one last walk. She perked up with remarkable energy, but after we’d gone less than a hundred feet, she stopped. That was the first and last time Mags ever gave up on a walk. I looked into her eyes, and I knew she was saying, “It’s time. You need to let me go.” She slowly led the way home.
The vet came while Nanci was downstairs, and she confirmed we were making the right decision. “Always better one day early than one day late,” she said.
I knew it was the right day, and I thanked God for making it clear. I patted Maggie’s head and fed her some turkey slices while the vet gave her the first shot to anesthetize her. Then I told her how much we loved her.
Years before Maggie’s time came, I had been with our dog Moses as he was dying, and years before that with Champ, gently stroking their fur and talking to them in their final moments. It was a privilege to be near to them at the end.
Drawing my face close to Maggie’s, I whispered, “I believe one day you’ll feel good again, girl, better than you’ve ever felt. And you’ll spread your happiness to everyone in a new world with no more suffering.” (You can’t say something like that if you don’t believe it. But I fully believed it, and I still do.)
I saw in her face a gentle peace. As I whispered my love, her eyes locked on mine. I knew she trusted that I would do only what was best for her.
Grieving a Pet Is Natural and Right
There are those who may not understand grief about a pet, but I certainly do. I also know my dog Gracie has been a great comfort to me as I have grieved over Nanci. Animals aren’t nearly as valuable as people, of course, but God is their maker and has touched many lives through them. We are called to care for them as stewards of the earth: “The righteous care for the needs of their animals” (Proverbs 12:10).
I have grieved deeply for people, and also for animals—not because I love animals as much as people, but because God has made room in our hearts to grieve both. God understands and whenever His children grieve, He grieves with us.
Some Christians have told me they’re embarrassed or even ashamed of their grief. Though they long for hope that they’ll see their pets again, they don’t admit that; they don’t want to sound overly sentimental.
I find it ironic that believers often feel guilty about grieving for animals, while unbelievers usually don’t. Don’t we, of all people, have reason to value animals even more, knowing God is their creator and loves them? And that He promises a New Earth populated not only by people but also animals?
A few pastors I know have admitted feeling guilty for grieving as much or more for their pets than for a friend or long-time member in their church. The assumption seems to be that godly people don’t mourn for animals, when both common sense and life experience dictate otherwise. Others consider it inappropriate to say that losing a pet can be like losing a family member. But as many readers know, pets offer more daily companionship, emotional support, and unconditional love for many of us than all but the closest family members do or can.
There’s no reason to feel guilty about missing our pets. For many people, the death of a pet may be one of the greatest losses of their lives. If we could get over the loss in a couple of days, it would only be because we didn’t love them much. But we do. And when we believe that God loves them more than we do—and I certainly believe that—we realize it’s fully right that they have been important to us. That allows us to grieve unapologetically.
Philosopher and author Douglas Groothuis wrote these beautiful words to pray over someone grieving the loss of a pet:
Oh Creator of all living things, and Giver of every good and perfect gift, we thank you for the gift of living creatures. You have made each thing according to its kind, each finds its place in your creation. You have given us dominion over the earth and put living things into our care, including our pets. We thank you for these animal friends, and while we know they cannot provide the fellowship given by members of our own kind, we thank you for the love and joy that comes from these fellow creatures.
We ask you now to comfort the master of a beloved pet who has gone the way of all flesh. All the living will likewise die, and the death of one of your image-bearers is far more consequential than that of a dog or cat. Yet the master grieves the loss of an animal companion, one put in his or her care. Fond memories of pets can last a lifetime. We ask that the manifold sorrows of this veil of tears not overwhelm the master, that life without their beloved pet would find healing and that the memories of this unique creature would bring happiness and consolation even in light of the bitterness of loss.
In the name of Jesus Christ, the Great Shepherd of the Sheep.
Amen.
