How do you know when it’s time to say goodbye to your hunting dog?

Whether it’s witnessing the gradual decline in energy as age takes its toll on their joints, or confronting the heartbreak of an injury, trauma, or cancer that overwhelms even the bravest and most loyal of companions, there comes a point in every hunting dog’s life when you must face the tough decision about how their final moments will unfold.

Euthanasia can be a difficult decision, but one you owe to your faithful companion

I carry one particular case in my breast pocket to remind me of just how important hunting dogs are to those of us lucky enough to share our lives with them.

Duke was a beloved senior Labrador who came in during my emergency shift late on a Saturday afternoon during hunting season. I was a young graduate and somewhat resentful that my commitments at the clinic had kept me out of the field on a picture perfect day.

Duke’s owner was upbeat but concerned, with the demeanor of a client who was prepared to run some blood work and be sent on his way with a few medications for his dog and a large dose of peace of mind. Sometimes bad news hits like a bus we never saw coming. 

I’m sorry, but Duke’s lack of appetite and lethargy weren’t just from the arthritis earned from a long life in the field. I wish I could tell you his bloated stomach and diarrhea involved much more than the steak trimmings his owner had slipped him from his own plate the night before. Indeed, the ultrasound confirmed what I had suspected, a nasty tumor on his spleen that was leaking blood into abdomen much faster than his body could replace it. 

One of the hardest parts of welcoming hunting dogs into our hearts and lives is the lamentably short time we share with them. No matter how many years you spend together, irrespective of the volumes of memories forged in the field or blind, it’s a universally shared sentiment that you’ve been robbed of time when they’ve reached the end of the road. 

Whether it’s witnessing the gradual decline in energy as age takes its toll on their joints, or confronting the heartbreak of an injury, trauma, or cancer that overwhelms even the bravest and most loyal of companions, there comes a point in every hunting dog’s life when you must face the tough decision about how their final moments will unfold.

“The fear of losing a cherished hunting companion adds an emotional layer to the decision-making process. Hunting dogs, known for their stoicism, can endure significant pain with their tails wagging even when their bodies can barely move.”

Even with my most empathic and heart-felt delivery, Duke’s owner took the news like a sucker punch to the diaphragm. A long silence ensued, followed by some tears that were contagious to anyone, myself included, who had traveled this solemn road. 

There was little hope and only the slightest solace in the fact that the cancer had done so much damage for so long without outwardly tarnishing the sparkle of Duke’s demeanor. The gentleman sat down on the bench in our quiet lobby and opened his phone. Together we scrolled through dozens of photos from the field. A limit of pheasants in South Dakota. Geese stacked up in front of a proud (and markedly less gray) younger Duke. I knew the feeling of those moments and the one he was going through now. Duke sighed and groaned a little at our feet. A natural death from this tumor was inevitable, but also likely an agonizing experience from which we hoped to spare him. There would be no heroics, no expensive emergency surgeries today. Just one final act of kindness for a dog that had never asked for much in return for a life of unwavering service and companionship. 

Understanding Euthanasia and How It Works

Years ago, I found myself thumbing through an article in an outdoor magazine discussing euthanasia for hunting dogs. What struck me most was not the content itself, but the wide range of opinions and experiences shared in the comments section by fellow hunters. Misconceptions abound, including horror stories of botched euthanasias and unsettling DIY suggestions were all too common. It doesn’t have to be that way, nor should it be.

When I discuss euthanasia with owners, I make sure to explain the process in simple terms and set realistic expectations. At its core, euthanasia is straightforward: it involves administering a deliberate overdose of an anesthetic, typically a barbiturate like sodium pentobarbital. The procedure is minimally invasive and largely pain-free, aside from the brief discomfort of a needle for sedation or placing an IV catheter to ensure the solution reaches the heart quickly. Depending on the dog’s size, they usually lose consciousness within seconds, with cessation of the heartbeat and death following swiftly—often before I can even reach for my stethoscope to confirm.

However, death can be unpredictable and sometimes messy, even during euthanasia. Despite my best efforts to guide your pet into a peaceful, eternal sleep, certain aspects of the process are beyond my control.

Sometimes, dogs that were vocal or anxious in life may involuntarily vocalize after death, which can be distressing for owners. When I anticipate this possibility, I often suggest an injectable sedative cocktail beforehand, though I haven’t yet found a foolproof solution to prevent it entirely. The muscles that retain urine or stool lose their tone after death, and their laxity occasionally creates messes that owners may not expect, particularly if urinary or gastrointestinal symptoms have been part of the disease that led up to this final moment. 

Just as you might witness postmortem twitches or gasps in a deer you’ve harvested, similar involuntary, postmortem movements can occur in pets. I always try to prepare owners for the possibility that these diaphragm contractions, though resembling breaths, indicate that your pet has already peacefully passed. It can be shocking, even if you’re expecting it. 

A natural death from this tumor was inevitable, but also likely an agonizing experience from which we hoped to spare him. There would be no heroics, no expensive emergency surgeries today. Just one final act of kindness for a dog that had never asked for much in return for a life of unwavering service and companionship. 

In general, veterinary practices have significantly improved the way they handle euthanasia, placing greater emphasis on creating a positive final experience for you and your hunting dog. We strive to create a peaceful environment—often in a dedicated room for this procedure—where you and your family can say goodbye to your hunting dog with privacy and free of the traditional hospital vibe. If visiting the clinic is too difficult, many veterinarians offer in-home euthanasia, so your dog’s final moments can be spent in a familiar, comforting setting. You certainly can and should ask questions if you have concerns or reservations about the process. 

Deciding When It’s Time

One of the toughest questions I face as a veterinarian is, “What would you do if it were your dog?” While I can provide guidance, please understand that personal preferences and perspectives vary greatly, and it’s nearly impossible for me to make a decision entirely from your viewpoint.

My role is to equip you with the necessary information to make an informed decision during what is likely an incredibly emotional time. The oath I took as a veterinarian also compels me to alleviate your dog’s pain and suffering, which often involves helping owners recognize when it’s time to let go. The fear of losing a cherished hunting companion adds an emotional layer to the decision-making process. Hunting dogs, known for their stoicism, can endure significant pain with their tails wagging even when their bodies can barely move. 

An old veterinarian once shared this advice with me—a somewhat blunt, but nonetheless useful litmus test for deciding when it’s time: 

First, is your dog still behaving like a dog? Is your bird dog still engaging in typical behaviors, like exploring, sniffing, marking, or barking? A zest for life is inherent in hunting dogs, and when that joy diminishes, it may be time to consider letting them go.

Second, do you and your dog still bring each other joy? The bond between you and your bird dog is a mutual relationship that requires effort from both sides. Often, the signs are clear to the veterinarian that the dog is ready to go, and it’s the owner’s denial that becomes the biggest hurdle to easing their pet’s suffering. For veterinarians, the hardest part of euthanasia is not the loss of life, but rather an owner’s insistence to perpetuate suffering in an animal that’s giving them every indication it’s ready to let go. We owe it to our dogs, who have spent their lives working for us, to honestly assess whether we’re keeping them alive for their sake or ours.

In an ideal world, our hunting dogs would pass peacefully in their sleep, perhaps dreaming of one last flush, point or retrieve. While I hope to be so fortunate when my time comes, I can assure you that most natural deaths are far from serene. Euthanasia, when performed by a veterinarian, may not be perfect, but it can end pain and suffering and spare you and your family the trauma of witnessing a prolonged and agonizing death.