I grew up on a cattle ranch, and we always had 5-6 dogs. None of them were "pets" -- they slept outside, their names were more descriptions, and they seldom lived to be more than 5-6 years old before getting run over, or kicked by a horse, or bit by a rattlesnake. Note that most of these injuries didn't result in death, that came in the form of a bullet to the head. Dad would say, "Better for him not to suffer, once he gets injured once it'll just keep happening. A dog that can't work doesn't have a purpose."

When I was 11 or 12 I had a dog that I really liked. I had raised her since she was a puppy, always gave her special treatment, and she followed me all over when I did my chores. Like just about every kid with their first dog though, I didn't do a good job of training her. She quickly developed bad habits -- she would jump up on people (knocking down kids), she would steal food from tables, and chase cats and chickens.

Dad let it slide because I really loved the dog, but as a compromise I had to keep her locked up in an old tool shed when we weren't home. One day she got out and killed just about every chicken we had... and a few cats. Dad told me to pick up all the half-chewed caucuses and throw them in the burn barrel -- there were about 50 dead chickens and 3 dead cats. And we'd been gone for probably 8-10 summer hours... the smell wasn't pleasant. It was clear that the dog had been killing for fun, she wasn't trying to eat these animals.

When I got done cleaning up the mess, Dad handed me a .45 and said, "Since it's your dog, you should be the one to take care of it." It was hard, I cried, and pleaded, promised to train her better... Dad wouldn't budge, "You know you can't fix this -- once she has a taste for killing, she'll do it again. Only a matter of time before she bites a person." I took the dog out for a walk around the place, gave her a bunch of meat scraps, and then, with Dad's help telling me where to aim, I shot her in the head. It was instantaneous. We buried her in the back yard.

The next day Dad said he heard one of the neighbors' dogs had puppies and wanted to know if I would like to go pick one out. I didn't want a new dog, I was still pretty shaken up. Dad pushed the issue, "Those puppies don't know about your last dog, and they need to be trained now. If they don't get adopted by someone with time to train them, then they'll just end up chasing cattle or killing chickens and getting shot. Who better to train them than you?"

That puppy I picked, a little Mutt Heeler, ended up being my best friend for over a decade (which is a very long time for a ranch dog). He learned over 50 commands, could work cattle, was even good at training other dogs... And when he got too old to work, he would still ride around in the pickup with us. Couldn't picture my life now without him in it. Dad had a strict "no dogs in the house" policy, and that dog was the only one who was allowed to break it.

On one hand, it's very sad to put a dog down. On the other, it's an opportunity to get a new dog. You're only going to have a finite number of dogs in your lifetime, there's no sense wasting time grieving. Did your old dog have a good life with lots of hikes and muddy feet and sloppy kisses? And do you have a lot of good memories? Great, then that dog accomplished his mission and he wouldn't want you to feel down. Who's to say you won't love the next dog just as much... or more?

There are a lot of dogs out there that need homes, and if you invest your time and affection you can turn just about any of them into an amazing companion.

* Jimmy Stewart Reads a Touching Poem About His Dog Beau on Johnny Carson's Tonight Show - YouTube || https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwGnCIdHQH0