Dear Charles
How one remarkable dog showed me eternity
Watching you die was single-handedly one of the hardest things I have witnessed in my life.
Fact: I knew you for about an hour or so on Earth.
I happened to be at the shelter when you were surrendered and had just led a ceremony with the shelter workers. The ceremony was beautiful and respectful, with moments of silence and peace. We cried for the animals who had lost their lives, and we cried for each other.
We felt the heaviness in our hearts, the helplessness in the face of so much suffering, and our anguish about the decisions that sealed animals’ destinies in the euthanasia room, their last breath. The final exhale.
Fact: I know very little about your life story. It is tempting to imagine a lot of drama, abuse, and terrible things. I will not do that. I’ll stick with the love in my heart for you, Charles.
Animals come to shelters damaged, old, abused, young, pregnant, ill, out of control, or just one too many. Some animals are happy because a shelter is a better place for them than where they came from.
At times, shelters are at capacity. You roll the dice on that.
Fact: You were about ten years old, tall and skinny, with a grey muzzle, and you were a pointer-type hunting dog. You were shivering with fear. They had you tethered to a desk, waiting to be processed. Your paperwork was still at the reception counter.
Your tail was tucked under, and you were too nervous to take any treats. You looked pretty sad. They asked me whether I would be willing to help and try to calm you down. Of course.
So there we were - you and me. I asked for a thunder shirt. Yes, here you go. You accepted it, and it fit you well. I did some healing touches on you and talked to you softly. And ever so slowly, your tail started to wag. Good boy. What a good boy you are.
Then I got called away. Could I do Reiki on a tiny kitten who had stopped eating? Sure thing, I’ll be right there.
Fact: Your family had moved out of state and left you with relatives. They surrendered you that morning, right after the shelter had opened.
While I was in another room working with the kitten, a shelter worker came in and said that they had scheduled an euthanasia.
“Do you want to be present for this?” “Yes, I do.” They granted me this unique privilege with one condition: I was NOT allowed to interfere with what they had to do. Usually, only employees are allowed to be present, and no one from the general public is permitted.
I often work with dying animals. They are loved; they have families. That’s the good death, as I call it, because these animals belong. I’ve made it my mission to look death in the eye, not just when it is the ‘good death’ in the arms of loved ones.
Being eye to eye with the kind of death where nobody even knows you exist, only those who work at the shelter. Most nights, I spend some time meditating on the countless pets who die like this. It’s my prayer.
Charles is going to be euthanized. What? Oh, shit, shit, shit!!!!
Fact: Right after you had calmed down, they took you to be temperament-tested. You did not pass the temperament test, not at all. You guarded your food aggressively, as noted on the intake form. And you did some other things which I don’t remember. I know that they were not in your favor.
I rush over to the euthanasia room. Oh, Charles, there you are with two shelter workers. There’s a sheet on the floor. “Can you lie down?” one of them asks. “Good boy, here you go.” The other girl prepares the fatal injection.
I sit about three feet from you, gazing into your eyes. Then one of them gently restrains you, and you become quiet. It’s a moment of stillness.
There is no fight, no resistance. I see the expression in your eyes. You look into the infinite. Your face merges with the vastness only your soul knows.
My soul knows it, too. I am here with you, on the floor, to see you and be with you despite myself, despite my heartache.
They are looking for a vein in your front leg, and she injects the liquid. You moan and collapse. It takes a while before your heart stops beating, even though you are already unconscious. They insert a heart stick into your rib cage to determine when your heart will stop completely. Time stands still when I see the needle shiver in your rib cage.
And then it stops.
I burst into tears. Dear Charles. I move closer and shower you with kisses. I love you.
I am utterly shaken and moved by your surrender, acceptance, and sadness. Not once did you flinch. We were meant to meet in your final moment here on Earth. Oh, Charles, I am in great pain. My heart is weeping. Questions and doubts arise in me: why, why, what if?
My final gesture toward you is to gently remove the thunder shirt and old black collar you wore. Then, I help one of the girls put you into a black plastic bag, and we carry your body into the cooler room near the crematorium.
Charles, you are so much more than that.
I love you. I’m so glad we met. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for your gentle tail wag. You will never be forgotten.
We are in a relationship. Forever.
Epilogue: I would like to express my gratitude to the shelter director and staff, who have one of the most challenging jobs imaginable. I feel honored to have been granted access to their gut-wrenching work.
Many people treat animals as disposable and relinquish them; too many produce unwanted offspring. There needs to be a bigger pool of people from the public to adopt or foster. Most shelters don’t have the funds to sedate animals before the euthanasia procedure, as was the case with Charles.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading Charles’ story. If you’re looking for a pet, consider adopting a shelter animal.
© Ute Luppertz 2025
A heartbreaking read and what a wonderful person u are for sure
This touched my heart in a way I didn't expect. Thank you for sharing, Ute.