Pets play different roles in different families. We did not humanize our animals, and though attached to them, we understood what it meant to send one to the slaughter house and we understood that a dog in agony was likely to be quickly put down, not brought to the vet where a several hundred dollar bill might be incurred. And putting an animal out of its misery at the appropriate time was considered part of growing up and taking on responsibility - probably wouldn't participate at 5, but certainly at 8 or 9.

So, on a serious note, you may not interact with animals like this, and may humanize them more. If you do, your son is likely to deal with this like the death of a friend, and I'd say honesty and solemnity are good things. For me and my kids, it would be more matter of fact, but, then, it has been all along - my five year old has asked if he'll ever get to eat his rabbit (he won't).

no it's not good that your dog is dying, and it's not good that some people go hungry and it's not good that you're so pissy.

But he sees the dog dies, and he learns in a real way that animals, and by extension, people in his life won't be there forever, and he should appreciate his time with them. It is a "good" example because it is something that was close to him.

I mostly agree with this, having only experienced it once with kids. My last dog died when my oldest was eight or nine. It was pretty obvious, at least to me, that he wasn't "right" for about two weeks or so before he died -- just sort of laying around and, I don't know how else to explain it, but he just had a real sadness about him every time you looked at him.

One night, shortly after everybody had gone to bed, I walked into the bedroom, and tripped over him, since he was laying at the foot of the bed. The weird thing was, he never laid at the end of the bed when he did sleep in the room, and when I tripped over him, he didn't move at first. He managed to make his way down the hall and down to the foot of the stairs, and then laid there. I tried to see if I could get him to stand up, and he did, for a minute, before his legs just kind of collapsed under him. After a bit of deliberation, I decided to take him to the animal hospital that night. Before I took him, I woke up my oldest, since she had basically grown up with the dog, and told her that I had to take him to the vet, because he wasn't doing well, and that there was a very good chance that I would not be bringing him back with me, so she should say goodbye and let him know how she felt about him in case he didn't. I made sure to allow her as much time to do so as I could, given the dog's condition.

I basically had to carry him to the car, and I set him in the back, with his head between the front seats. I wasn't sure if he was even able to stand up at this point. As I'm driving along, I've got one hand on the wheel, and I'm petting him and talking to him. About a block away from the vet's office, he stands up, in the moving car, and puts his head in my lap while I'm driving.

When we get to the vet's office, he basically slumped down onto the floor of the car again. When I lift him out of the car, he had wet the carpet. I take him into the vet's office, and a while later, they come out and tell me that he has a cancerous tumor in his spleen, and there's nothing they can do for him, other than put him down.

They told me that I didn't have to hang around for it if I didn't want to, but after 12 years, I didn't want to leave him in there by himself without anybody that he knew, so I stayed with him while he was put to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I was a complete wreck afterwards, but I still think I did the right thing by letting the oldest one say goodbye to him. I saw no need to wake the four-year-old, and I told her the next morning -- leaving out all but the most essential details.

Since then, the oldest has told me that she was glad that she had that chance and would have been upset if she hadn't.

Sorry about your dog, Ty. I certainly don't envy you.

This same sort of thing totally fucked up Tony Soprano, you know. . .

You shot Old Yeller?

Shooting old yeller never bothered me. He was old. You'd put down Hank, wouldn't you?

Sending a frisky young animal I'd fed milk in the kitchen to the slaughterhouse always seemed more problematic. Yet I'll bet you're going to happily slice into a nice hunk of meat tonight with no qualms.

I, like most other anonymous internet-chat-board posters, put Hank down regularly.

True that. I don't share my house with cows, pigs, or chickens.

He wasn't old, he had hydrophobia. I'd shoot Hank if he had hydrophobia, though. Come to think if it, how do we know he doesn't?

Sorry about your doggie, Ty. I would definitely tell him and give him a chance to say goodbye. If you are having him put down, I might let Junior believe the dog died of his own accord, though. My parents put down a pet when I was a kid and the fact that they had anything to do with it didn't go over well. If you have to you can say he died of natural causes at the vet's office.

I'm kinda thinking that for a five y.o., it's a little much to tell him before the fact. It just seems like a bit much for him.

five seems early to know details. but I don't think we had a pet die between when I became aware of stuff and age 9 or so.

offing furry family members
 

five seems early to know details. but I don't think we had a pet die between when I became aware of stuff and age 9 or so.

I didn't have a pet die during that period either. I had a puppy with severe hip dysplaysia (no idea how that is spelled), but my mom "took him back to the breeder" and everything was fine. Um, yeah. Apparently he got better and lived happily ever after. Bruno Dunes. <sniff>

My parents swear to this day that the dog from across the street went to live with the cousin of the owner on a farm. I press them on it every couple years or so. They remain steadfast in their "farm" story.

I got a dog out of it, though. I used to cry for the neighbor dog after it went away.

Binky!!!!!!!!!!!!

eta, come to think of it, I cried for Binky when he was there. He pretty much lived on a rope tied to a tree. Even at sub-8, I knew this was no way to live.

OK, now I'm really quite depressed. Good thing I have my new friend Sake with me again.

Ty. Now do you realize I'm right? Remember, at every step where you know what fringey's parents did- you need to go a different way. Costanza's rule.

And yet, you still became a lawyer.

No wonder you're depressed. . .