Euthanasia for behavior: O's story
This post is part of a series discussing euthanasia for behavior. Find the first post here and all of the posts here.
Making the decision to euthanize your dog for behavior is incredibly difficult. It's a decision that only you can make - but you don't have to make it alone. In this post, we're sharing O and his human's story. O and his human are very dear to us, and their story is an important one. We hope that it will provide some comfort to anyone who feels isolated or guilty as they make a decision about euthanasia.

Itâs taken over three years to be able to sit down and actually let myself feel all these emotions. The story is long, but necessary to understand the decision. I hope you can find something you need by reading on, as I have from so many others before me.
âOâ was my first foster dog. I always wanted to foster and rescue. I had dogs growing up, but they were little Yorkies whom I loved nonetheless, but I knew a rescue dog was what my heart always needed.
When I first moved out on my own into a small condo, I began following the photography of a girl who worked for a rescue in my area. That quickly turned into following that rescue organization and searching for a dog that would be perfect for me to foster and hopefully adopt.
One night, scrolling through the rescue organizationâs Facebook page, I saw him. âOâ was this skinny, malnourished, yet happy puppy who was around 6 months old and my heart melted into a puddle of mush. This was it.
His background wasnât great. He had been found by local police in a ânot so greatâ area, tied to a doorknob by a leash, and sitting next to two dogs who had already passed away. He was skin and bones, and his owner was reportedly mentally unstable and constantly on the policeâs radar for various reasons. I reached out to the rescue the very next day.
The first week was a dream.
Four days later, I was told that he needed to be taken to the vet to be neutered. No problem; thatâs necessary. I dropped âOâ off that morning and my mom picked him up for me in the afternoon because I was still at work. She stayed with him until I got home and I expected to see a groggy puppy. Nope! âOâ was charging around, jumping when he wasnât supposed to be, ripping and roaring through the condo.
After that day, âOâ never really seemed to be able to settle down again. Everything changed. I remember incessantly googling things like âcan neutering change my dog,â and âwill my dog act crazy if heâs in pain?â I called the vetâs office and told them that âOâ was acting quite differently. By then he had started nipping at my hands every time I was sitting on my couch or if I was sitting on the floor with him. He started chasing my cats with what seemed like an increased need to actually harm them; very different than his previously playful demeanor.
The vetâs office prescribed a pain killer and said the behaviors might be from pain, but no matter what, he should settle down in a few days.
A few days came and went and âOâ never settled down. I would later learn that this experience was likely just scary enough to set off all the genetic things that werenât quite right in âO.â Over the next month or so, things only got worse. âOâ was actively seeking out my hands to nip at them and the nipping got harder and harder. I had scratches up and down each arm. I was afraid to sit down on my couch. âOâ began lunging at my face, especially if I was crying from all the stress. He never laid down anymore. I had to begin locking my cats in a room whenever he was out of his crate. He constantly wanted to be outside, and I was no longer able to control him during walks because he was barking and lunging at everything that moved.
I was at a complete loss.
The only thing that I knew to do was contact a trainer. A friend referred me to someone she knew, and I set up an appointment for as soon as possible.
The trainer began the session, and within 5 minutes âOâ had a choke collar around his neck. He taught me that âitâs just the soundâ that makes dogs listen and behave properly. He had me practice walking him around my neighborhood, pushing his hind legs down to force him into a sitting position, and âcorrectingâ my foster dog with nearly every movement.
It was going well.
Then, a dog. âOâ took a particular liking to this dog. The trainer wasnât having that. He promptly âalpha rolledâ my boy and held his muzzle shut right there on the pavement until the dog was out of sight. I remember the fear. I could tell. Even if I didnât know any of the other signs at that time, I could tell by the look in âOâsâ eyes, he was terrified. We only had 2 more sessions with this trainer, during which he instructed me on how to alpha roll my dog and wave my hand over his face until he didnât nip at me anymore, as well as when to force him into his crate and âlock the door tightlyâ whenever he nipped me.
Needless to say, none of that worked and it wasnât anything I liked doing. Again, things got worse. Nipping and lunging got more intense. Nipping eventually broke the skin and left my hands a bloody mess. We were both so broken, and that trainer still had 5-star reviews everywhere.
6 months passed and we continued to struggle.
After a particularly rough evening, I began googling âbehavioral training for dogs.â There we go. Thatâs what I shouldâve done the first time. Katelin Thomas to the rescue.
I think it was something like 64 times that âOâ lunged at me during our initial consult with Katelin. He hated me, but I still had to try. I had asked the rescue to find another foster for him at least 10 times by now. The answer was always âweâll post his picture on the pageâ and then silence. So, this training had to work. I was invested.
Katelin worked up an entire treatment plan. We could do this.
âO,â Katelin, my mom, and myself worked tirelessly for 2 years. Hours upon hours of training and educating. Late night enrichment walks in the woods away from other people. Swimming classes with behavior specialists. Frozen Kongs, treat boxes, puzzles, mats, agility equipment; anything to work his body and mind. So. Much. Liverwurst. Trips to the Michigan State Vet Clinic to meet with a behavioral veterinarian. Medication change after medication change until we were up to 3 medications 3-4 times per day and then dealing with reactivity around taking that medication. Learning every helpful command and mastering it. Endless complaints from neighbors about barking and running they could hear in the condo. Having to walk through the back door of every building so that we didnât, by chance, run into any other animals. Muzzle training that I wish wouldâve worked. You name it, we did it to keep that boy as happy and safe as possible.
Until one day when the elevator door at the condo opened and there was a strange man standing there. We had never had a problem with this before and we always kept him on a very short leash. âOâ lunged and broke skin on his hand. After that, âOâ was officially asked to be removed from the condo, so he went to stay with my parents. That was 15 months after he entered my life.
I began tirelessly searching for homes. Putting offer after offer in and all were turned down. I was so stuck. My mom worked with âO,â but I still went over after work every night to help him run out some energy and put him in his crate for the night. You see, when I said âOâ never really settled down after his neutering, he truly never did. He never laid down for more than 5-10 minutes at a time unless he was in his crate. He would constantly pace around the house, want to go outside and come back in at least 20-30 times per day, and follow whoever he felt âsafeâ with. It was a full-time job, but it was worth it to us.
âOâ stayed with my parents for 7 months. Every day was hard. Things got better before they got worse. We had days where âOâ seemed like he was on the road to recovery, and then days where he bit the neighbor and he snapped at everyone in the family. No one except the 3 people who lived there and me were allowed in the house. âBeware of Dogâ signs had to go up all around the property to try and avoid a lawsuit if âOâ bit anyone. The doorbell sent waves of panic through the house.
Euthanasia was something I tearfully heard about when we were about 6 months into training. In my mind, you only did that when a dog was old, and it was âtheir time.â It was the humane thing to do then, but not when a dog is young and full of life. I put it to the very back of my mind and swore I would never do that. I would go live on a farm first if I had to.
As the days went on, âOâ became more and more unhappy. He rested even less than before, he started refusing all medication, he rarely got excited to see anyone anymore. With this, he also became more and more dangerous. He began lunging at the crate door when we would try to close it, snapped at random times, and found it hard to settle even in his crate. It was absolutely heartbreaking. This wasnât a good life for him or any of us anymore. I was selfishly keeping him here for me and so that people wouldnât judge me. The guilt was unbearable. I finally made the decision to let it all go and give him the peace he deserved and worked so hard for. You see, it wasnât us putting all those hours of work in, it was him. It was always him who had to try the hardest. I was done making him work so hard just to continue to be terrified of the world.
âOâ was 2 and a half years old when he finally found his peace. That day was, and still is, the hardest day of my life. I let him sleep in the bed with me that night and it was the best feeling. We woke up and administered the first horse tranquilizer. We had a vet coming to the house and since this was a stranger, âOâ needed help calming down before she arrived. It took 4 horse tranquilizers for him to lay down and be calm, but he still wasnât sleeping. I held him and told him how sorry I was that I couldnât make everything better for him. So incredibly sorry and broken. I told him to meet me at the rainbow bridge and that no dog would ever mean as much to me as he did. I told him that he would finally be happy and be able to run free. I told him not to be afraid anymore and to go find my grandpa and uncle who were waiting for him wherever he went.
Just like that, my boy was gone to a better place than here.
The guilt stayed with me for about 2 years. The anxiety started about a month before he was even gone and is still something I struggle with.
I thought over and over about what a monster I must be to have done this and even more to feel relieved after it. I had a lot of healing to do. Every time I would see a dog or hear one barking, I would get flashbacks and my face would flush. I analyzed every single dog I saw and pointed out their fears to anyone who would listen. Then, I would feel even more guilty because I could see that they had fears but were still living a normal life.
It took years to talk myself through it. Yes, all dogs have fears. Thatâs normal, just like with humans. But when those fears impact quality of life both for an animal as well as their human, things are quite different.
As I sit here, 3 years later, I have another very good boy at my side. I tried about a year after âOâ left me to adopt another dog, but it was just too soon for me. So, I waited.
Life went on, I slowly healed, I got married, and now I have a 5-month-old puppy who licks my face as I tearfully write this. Iâd be lying if I said I donât sometimes think Iâm the problem or that Iâm just cursed with dogs. Every bark, growl, frozen stance, chasing of the cats, wanting to go outside more than normal, and lunge on a walk scares the hell out of me. I never realized how much of that is normal when itâs done for a different reason. Even writing those things makes me think âoh gosh, maybe there IS a problem.â But, thereâs not. Heâs perfectly happy and loving. Heâs young and is learning about the world. He has fears and thanks to âOâ (and Katelin) I know that liverwurst makes everything better. His fears are normal and can be worked through. When he gets spooked by something, he runs away from it rather than toward it with an open mouth. All these signs Iâve often wished to forget are helping me raise a happy dog and Iâm thankful. Itâs easy to get stuck in feeling like a monster, but itâs so much better to choose to be grateful for the dog who likely made you who you are today.
Love you forever and always, âO.â