Knowing when it’s time to let go of your dog and finding peace after

Saying goodbye to a beloved dog is one of the hardest things we face as pet owners. They give us unconditional love for years, and when the time comes to make decisions about their comfort and dignity, it can feel overwhelming.

How to know it's time

Dogs are experts at hiding pain. But as they age, there are signs to watch for:

• They stop enjoying the things they once loved

• Pain or illness becomes hard to manage

• They struggle with basic tasks like eating or walking

• Good days become fewer and farther between

If you’re constantly wondering whether they’re still happy, that may be the sign you’re looking for. Euthanasia isn’t giving up; it’s giving peace when life becomes more struggle than joy.

Why you might feel relieved

After saying goodbye, some people feel a quiet relief. No more medication routines. No more watching them suffer. That relief can feel wrong, but it’s not. You were carrying a heavy emotional load. Feeling lighter is part of the healing. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love them. It means you cared deeply.

Grieve without shame

You gave your dog a good life and a loving goodbye. Let yourself grieve in whatever way feels right. Talk about them, remember them, and be kind to yourself. The love you shared is still there. It always will be.

Book one last photoshoot: I call this one the rainbow bridge session

Before you say goodbye, consider giving yourself one last gift: a photoshoot with your dog. It’s a way to honor their life, capture the bond you share, and create a beautiful memory to hold onto. Even if your dog is older or sick, those final images often become the most meaningful.

Because I know how difficult it is to make this decision, I offer gentle, in-home or outdoor sessions just for this stage of life.

The quiet treasure of a dog

There are few treasures in life as quietly profound as the love of a dog.

They don’t ask for much. Just your presence, your patience, and a moment of your time. In return, they offer everything: loyalty without conditions, joy without explanation, and comfort without words. A dog doesn’t need to speak for you to understand them. They’re fluent in looks, tail wags, head tilts, and warm sighs at your feet.

When you’re with a dog, life slows down. Because that’s how they move through the world. They stop to sniff, to explore, to notice the wind in the grass and the sunlight dancing on a puddle. They remind us that it's okay, even necessary, to pause. To be curious. To be. They don’t rush. They don’t multitask. They live in the moment and invite us to do the same.

There’s a kind of magic in the way a dog greets you when you come home. Their tail is wagging, their eyes are bright, and they bring you a toy like a peace offering or a celebration. It’s impossible not to smile. And that small moment, just a tail wag or a nuzzle, can shift the entire weight of your day. A simple belly rub becomes a two-way act of healing. Their joy becomes yours.

But every dog lover knows a heartbreak is waiting to happen. One day, the wagging tail is no longer waiting by the door. The leash hangs still. The absence is enormous. The silence is deafening. And while we never exchanged words, their voice in our life is suddenly gone.

Yet even in that grief, dogs leave behind something remarkable. A deeper capacity for love. And a heart that knows, despite the pain, it’s worth doing again.

Because somewhere, in a shelter across town or across the country, there is a dog waiting. A dog who is already perfect in their own imperfect way. A dog who wants to walk slowly through life with you, one step at a time. Who will bring you their toy like it’s the greatest gift they have. Who will wait for you, every day, just to come home.

They are not just animals. They are companions. Teachers. Healers. Mirrors. And if we are lucky, they are with us just long enough to show us what it really means to be present and to love fully without needing words.

Dogs are not just our pets. They are our greatest treasure.

And somewhere, your next treasure may be waiting for you.

Can you grieve a person that has not died?

I say yes. I have experienced it and it’s been now 2 years that I ‘lost’ the person I’m still sometimes grieving today. March 19, 2017 is the day my sister left the United States after living here for almost 20 years. The last almost 3 of those years we lived in the same city, had regular wine, sushi, and  movie nights. When my husband and I bought a house, she moved in for her last months in this country before heading home with a one-way ticket and her American adventure packed up in 5 big suitcases. The following months (there were many and there are still some to this day) were incredibly hard. I noticed changes in me and those were changes I did not like. I was not interested in the hobbies I had been so passionate about for most of my life. I thought I’d get over it and it would all pass since we live in a world where a person across a huge pond is just a FaceTime call away. But it was not the same and being the wife of a firemen who had gotten to know her new house and home with her sister in it, I was now sitting by myself on the couch every third night, grieving. 

At first I told myself to not be so pathetic. She isn’t dead. What am I doing? Why am I feeling this way? I felt a little ridiculous and kept reminding myself of people who have REAL problems. The months kept going by and when I was still not feeling alright after about 8 months and my passion for riding horses had still not returned (I still forced myself to take lessons though just to pretend everything was okay) I started looking for help. This is something not a lot of people know and I contemplated whether I wanted to write this or not but why the hell not? Researching counselors and therapists, I stumbled upon the Atlanta International Counseling group and made an appointment. For a few months I went pretty regularly and it was an immense help. Viviane was a god sent helper and supporter. After many months of feeling completely heart-broken, or more heart-shattered, I finally started feeling a little better. There are still weak times but I keep reminding myself that I work hard in order to go home more often to spend time with my family.

I think this is the most vulnerable blog post I’ve written so far but for some reason it just spilled out of me this morning and keeping it all bottled up will not help me in any way. I can breathe now without feeling like I’m about to cry. But know, for the 1, maybe 2 people reading this, I do believe that you can grieve a person even if he/she has not died.