One Highly Effective Way to Kill Your Dog

Most people prefer to kill their dogs the old fashioned way, by forcing them to stay alive until they eventually succumb to diseases of old age. This method is considered outdated, because it usually involves some level of force to keep the dog from doing things that might get it killed. Things like playing in traffic, eating trash, stealing stuff off the counter, bolting out the front door, biting people, etc.

But worry not, in 2019 there’s lots of ways to get to the same end point! There’s actually a force-free, positive reinforcement based way to kill your dog that is much more modern. Read on:

Obtain a fairly large, two year old rescue dog who cowers in the back of the kennel at the local high kill shelter after reading about his sad story on Facebook. Your husband isn’t thrilled, but you convince him. “He will die if we don’t do something today!” More selfish people would skip over this dog for a happy go lucky pet, but not you.

You are going to save that dog from euthanasia. His adoption fee is $45. “What a deal!” you think, as you lift him into the back seat.

When you welcome this dog into your home, shower the dog with lots of freedom, and (most importantly) affection. Your husband tries to pet the dog too, but he doesn’t seem to like him as much, and hides in the corner when your husband walks into the room. “Must have been abused by men,” you conclude, as you hand your husband a bag of treats. “Here, try these.” When he hops up in bed with you for the first time, smile, because that means he’s finally opening up! When he follows you to the bathroom for the first time, consider making him your Emotional Support Animal. You do feel less anxious when he’s around, and couldn’t we all use a little more emotional support?

Treat him like a human child - you know that feeling safe and loved will help him heal his trauma. The goal here is to leave him alone as minimally as possible. You can only imagine how lonely it felt living in the shelter all those months. Start an Instagram for your special friend, so the world can see what an awesome life you have. Post approximately 4 times per day. Obtain a #dogmom bumper sticker.

When he whines in the crate, stop using it. Put him in the bathroom when you have to leave, with a Kong and ten bully sticks. When he eats the drywall and cabinets, just start saving up for a remodel ($5,000). Your husband always promised to remodel that bathroom anyway, right? Clearly the dog has a fear of confinement. Spend approximately $450 on calming supplements and a Thunder Shirt, and dose him frequently.

Allow him to sleep in bed with you, and when he growls at your husband for accidentally bumping him one night, simply buy a bigger bed ($450) so you can all fit. After all, he’s probably having flashback of his days of abuse, so you can’t really blame him for being a little grumpy. And, your husband should be more careful of where he puts his feet at night!

The most important thing is to never, ever say “no” to the dog - only say “yes” in different, more creative ways. When he starts growling at your mother in law, say “Oopsie!” and put him in the bathroom for a time out. When he barks, periodically go in and reassure him that you’re still there. It’s okay to step outside if you can’t hear each other talk. When your mother in law stops coming over, try not to be outwardly relieved in front of your husband. You never liked her any way, and didn’t you read somewhere that a dog can tell whether a person’s bad or not?

When he pulls on the leash so hard that you fall over, try a harness ($20). When he pulls on the harness, try a Gentle Leader ($20). When he breaks out of the Gentle Leader to go after your neighbor’s dog, simply pay for your neighbor’s vet bills ($1000) and stop walking the dog, because it’s clear that he’s scared of other dogs. When he starts growling at your husband for no apparent reason, hire a veterinary behaviorist for approximately $1000. Obtain a prescription for Trazadone and Prozac, and a referral to a trainer (also $1000). Other people would give up, but not you. You’re committed.

Train the dog using only food, never corrections, as you don’t want to cause aggression. Join a Facebook support group for reactive dog owners, and post a “Daily Check In” every single day. You want a place to celebrate your successes, but you also need a place to vent. Cry into your wine glass after unsuccessful walks, and then post a picture of that wine glass with the caption “Another hard day.” It’s a tough world out there for pet parents, and you need support! Spend most evenings responding to comments, helping other pet parents, and modifying your training plan based off the 29 unique pieces of advice you got on that one comment thread. Make a note to bring up all 29 pieces of advice to your trainer next week.

When your trainer comes, spend approximately 40 minutes of every hour long session talking, venting, and upgrading the training plan. “This stuff is important,” you think, and you want to get it right. At six weeks in, you still can’t walk him, because he won’t take food outside, but you have a pretty good “look at me” in the living room. So you book another six weeks with her ($1,000), because at this point you’re kind of friends and if you’re honest, you like having her around to talk about your dog. She has a #dogmom bumper sticker too, so you know she understands. You learn that your dog is “leash reactive,” “barrier aggressive,” and a “frustrated greeter.” You are happy because now you know what to call it. You have a plan and a method, and you are going to make some change!

Your dog bites your husband in the face one night, and you are surprised, because you thought the medications should be working by now. You can’t tell what triggered the bite, but your trainer told you that there is always a reason. After consulting with your vet, you both agree to double the dose of Prozac to see if that will help. You ask your husband to attend training sessions with the dog, and he nods and agrees, but you know he won’t follow through.

He seems…different now, but he is calmer. He still growls at your husband, but now that you have educated him about canine communication, he respects your dog’s stress signals by moving away at the first sign of a growl. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” you think, happy that you have found an answer that works for all of you.

When your dog slips out the front door and bites the jogger he’s been barking at for 4 months through the window, try to remain calm. Be sure to let her know he’s a rescue as she snaps photos of the puncture wounds on her calf. “He’s a frustrated greeter,” you say sheepishly as she debates whether to go to the hospital. You say the same thing to the police when they arrive to take statements, but they don’t seem as willing to talk about your dog’s issues as your trainer does. You wonder if the woman will press charges, and how you will afford it if she does.

After the police leave, your husband says the dog has to go. “We can’t afford a lawsuit.” You know he’s right, but you’re also mad at him for not giving the dog a fair chance. You would never say it out loud, but you feel like biting your husband sometimes too. And, he was abused by men, after all. If your husband would just attend the training sessions like you ask, and put the work in, then they could maybe patch things over. “What do I do?” you ask the group, including a photo for “dog tax,” as if everyone in that group doesn’t already know his face.

This time the comments are different. There are lots of heart reacts, and even a few tearful reacts, and the typical “Hugs!!”, but this time a few people bring up the R-word. Rehoming. “You deserve to feel safe in your home.”

So that night you tearfully post in a couple of local dog groups, making sure to note that he requires a home without men or children. “A single lady who works from home would be ideal.” You make his adoption fee fairly high ($100) to ensure he goes to a good home. “He’s a little nervous, but it’s because he was abused...by men.” The post gets a few likes and shares, but no one contacts you. Months go by, but you don’t lose hope. You know someone out there can give him a fur-ever home.

Meanwhile, you cannot walk your dog. You cannot play with him in the back yard, because he fence fights with the neighbor’s dog (the same one he bit months ago) and bites you when you try to pull him away. It scares you when he turns on you like that, so you have a patch of grass delivered every week ($30) so he can go potty in the laundry room. He’s nearly chewed apart the fence, and you need to fix it ($900), but you’re broke from the dog bite lawsuit ($9,000). He spends his days following you around the house and sleeping. You don’t post any Instagram pics anymore, because they’re all taken from inside the house, which is by now very dark due to the light blocking window film your trainer recommended. He still reacts to sounds, but if he can’t see outside, it is a little better. Your house smells like dog shit.

He now leaves the house only for vet appointments, for which he must be sedated and muzzled. After biting the trainer a few weeks ago, she stopped coming back, citing safety issues, and told you to find another trainer (positive only, of course, as you don’t want to create any aggression or ruin the work we’ve already done). You text her frequently about his case, hoping she might have some new ideas, but she stopped responding a while ago. Every now and then you pull out the clicker for the counter conditioning exercises she showed you, but he just lays there. You need to update his training plan, but you feel overwhelmed about where to start. You post on the Facebook group less and less, because nothing really ever happens. No incidents, but no successes either.

You can’t have anyone over because he barks and eats the door if he is separated from you. All of the doors (five of them) in your house are ruined ($200/door). You can’t leave him for very long or he gets in the trash and it’s always an escapade having his stomach pumped ($600) because he hates the vet. It’s easier just to stay home with him. You have stopped seeing your friends, and they have more or less stopped inviting you out.

Your husband wakes up to your dog standing over him and growling one night, so he sleeps in a separate room now, leaving you and your dog together in the giant bed you bought. He now growls anytime your husband approaches you, so in order to respect his stress signals, he doesn’t approach you very much. You mainly keep to yourselves. Every day you call rescues in the area asking if they could please make an exception for him, but they cannot.

You husband has now given you a choice. “It’s me or the dog.” You were planning to start trying for a baby around the time you brought the dog home, but now there’s no way you could bring a child into your home now. You realize how bad you have let things get. You suggest that the two of you take a vacation to get a break, but stop planning when you realize that no one will board your dog. You wish your dog would just realize how lucky he is for you to have picked him up that day, out of all the dogs in the shelter. If he could just realize how lucky he is, he wouldn’t have so many problems!

You decide to give your dog one last good day, a chance to do all the things he used to enjoy. You take him on a date (un-sedated this time) intending to get him a hamburger, but he growls at the drive thru guy from the front seat. “He’s a frustrated greeter,” you tell him, as you roll up your window. You throw the ball for him one last time in the back yard on a leash, but he just stares at you. That night, you ask your husband if he would like to say goodbye to the dog, and he just stares at you. You sleep with your dog that night as usual, and spend all night sobbing into his fur.

The next morning you drive your dog to the vet, with a double dose of sedative as instructed. You half-walk, half-carry him in. The techs all know you by now, and they help you lay his drug-addled, muzzled body on the table. They light the requisite electric candle in the waiting room - “Someone is saying goodbye to their beloved pet.” You try to be strong for him, but you don’t know if it matters anymore - he doesn’t appear to know you’re there. You start to say that he was a good boy, because isn’t this what you’re supposed to say at the end? But you can’t bring yourself to say it. “He wanted to be a good boy,” and the vet nods in agreement. He injects the needle just like he’s supposed to, and eventually, your dog stops breathing, just like he’s supposed to. You thought this moment would be hard, and it is, but you also feel a just a tinge of relief.

You happen to glance at the bill for euthanasia - $45, same as his adoption fee on his Gotcha Day. It seems so long ago - you’ve been through so much.

You update the group that night, and it’s only tearful reacts this time. “You did everything you could have done,” they reassure you. “Hugs!!”

“I know,” you agree.