"Hudson Got Dead"

Yesterday we had to put the family dog down or as my text book talking 4 year old told a woman at my daughter’s soccer game “Hudson got dead.”

As a parent I struggled with the right words to explain one of life’s challenging moments; the loss of a family pet. For me who had loved Hudson for 15 years saying he was dead was difficult to say. It sounded so final and harsh. I wanted my euphemisms, my soft language that wasn’t so direct. I wanted to say he was sleeping, gone to doggy heaven, or the farm. The instinct to protect my kids from life’s harsh realities was kicking in and kicking in hard. But as a professional who works to support children and families in crisis I had to face my own fears, practice what I preach and tell the truth. The truth for a four year old is “Hudson got dead.”

We had actually started this journey months ago when he first started to show signs of his age. We talked about a how the body gets older things wear out. Hudson really couldn’t see very well anymore, he had trouble getting up and down the stairs and often needed to be carried. (He was a 7lb Yorkshire Terrier). He had developed a few infections and had to have teeth removed. So on Friday morning after two days of watching him walk into walls and circles I decided it was time to let him go. (the infection in his jaw bone had actually spread to his brain causing dementia). I made the call in private and after a good cry, spoke with my husband about talking with the kids.

We sat them down together my son is 4 my daughter 8; understanding death very differently. My son still believes death is reversible and my daughter asked if the medicine the vet gave him was like the medicine the doctor’s gave her great aunt to make her comfortable when she died. I was pretty impressed with the connection. I proceeded to explain in language they could understand; simple, honest, and concrete.
I stated clearly, “The veterinarian or animal doctor would give Hudson medicine. This medicine would stop his heart; he wouldn’t be able to breath, run, play, or bark. Everything in the body would stop working and he would be (gulp, big breath) dead.”

I knew I had to say it for my own good as much as for theirs. The clearer I was now the easier to explain again when we were at the vet’s office. Children need new or scary information reiterated many times in order to begin to process it and make sense of it. We also read Lifetimes and the Dead Bird. Twice. Reading the stories reinforced the new information in a way that is both comforting and familiar. This would continue to be a way to revisit new information as weeks and months passed and each child was still processing the information at their pace.
The kids made pictures and cards for him writing how much they loved him. We took him on his dog bed and drove to the vet. While there, my son was bouncing off the walls and my daughter had a look of concern not really sure how to react or respond to her mother’s fluctuations between moments of clarity and tears.

The vet first gave him a tranquilizer; I explained "This medicine would help him sleep and feel relaxed his bones wouldn’t ache and he would be comfortable."

During the 10-15 minutes the medicine takes to work, we talked to the dog. We talked about how much we loved him. Offering them an opportunity to say good-bye, I asked each child to say what they would miss or love about Hudson.

My son said “Hudson’s fur is soft, some dog’s fur is hard but Hudson’s is soft and I like to pet him”

My daughter said she would always remember him in her heart. I had told both kids that if they needed to leave the room at any time that would be okay. It was fine if they needed to step out and come back in. When under stress children do best if they can come and go from it. Processing the information in increments and having the opportunity to manage their own stress levels by leaving doing something else then coming back when ready. My husband periodically walked them outside and we allowed them to come and go, touch Hudson, pet him again, talk to him, say what they needed then leave again.

As the vet came and gave the final medicine that would stop his heart. She pushed it in and my son stated “that’s the medicine that makes Hudson dead.” I wanted to cry. I knew it was true but it broke my heart to hear it.

We each took a few more minutes to say our final good-byes then left. Hudson lay peacefully on his bed with the cards made for him by the kids.

My textbook son as we get in the car asks when we will pick him up. I know this will go on for days maybe months. At 4 he doesn’t under the permanence of death. But I also know I have laid the groundwork to begin to understand and we have communicated openly and honestly with our kids giving them the tools to understand loss and not be devastated by it but to grow through each experience.

In the days following I have answered many questions about his body and what happened to it. Leaving him at the vet is confusing to a child. When children get to see you bury a pet there is a sense of finality about it, a sense of over, done, dead. Leaving Hudson’s body in the office is a present day problem when explaining death to a young child. I can explain the process: His heart stopped, but to a four year old whose understanding of death is fleeting leaving the dog there is confusing. Until developmentally he understands death is permanent I will repeat the facts, reiterate the process, and continue to be a supportive loving parent. Overtime even I may believe Hudson is really dead too.