Our farewell to Vito - How we consciously organised the last 24 hours with our dog | Episode 4
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Time to read 9 min
Saying goodbye to a beloved dog is one of the most difficult moments in a dog person's life. It is not only a personal loss, but also a decision that requires responsibility, compassion and knowledge.
With this article, we would like to share our experience - not just as a diary, but as a mixture of personal perspective and well-founded knowledge. We talk about the last 24 hours with our dog Vito: what helped us, what surprised us and what we would like to pass on to other dog people who might find themselves in this situation.
The last 24 hours - how we organised them
After the decision was made to let Vito go, one of the most intense and emotional phases of our lives began. It was clear to us that these last hours would be irretrievable. And we wanted to organise them in such a way that Vito would feel love, security and joy - not fear or pain.
We consciously decided against the clinic and in favour of our home. Vito was always a dog who loved his home: the familiar smells, his favourite places, the people and dog friends around him. Amalia was of course by his side - not only because we wanted her to be, but also because dogs can cope better with stressful situations by being socialised.
We took out his favourite toys: squeaky tennis balls, which were "rubbish toys" from a human point of view, but meant pure happiness for him. We knew that it was no longer about "educationally useful" toys, but about pure joy.
We made a camp out of blankets and dog mattresses in the living room. We lay down with him, forming a little "family nest". It was a moment of togetherness for all of us, including Amalia. And although the grief choked our throats, we tried to radiate calm and love.
From a behavioural biology perspective, dogs can sense the emotional mood of their caregivers very accurately. Studies show that dogs can interpret our voice, our smell and even our facial expressions - even in moments of stress or grief. It is therefore important to consciously convey calm and security, even when you are upset inside.
One particularly painful moment was when Vito no longer even touched his beloved cream or milk foam. For us, this was one of the clearest signs that he had reached the end of his tether. Even small routines such as cleaning his paws or his backside suddenly became a burden for him that he hardly wanted to allow.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, try to organise the last hours or days in such a way that your dog can experience as much closeness, warmth and familiar moments as possible. It's not about doing everything "right" - it's about being there for your dog and showing them: "You are loved and we are with you."
Vito's last morning - recognising signs and letting go of hope
The morning of our farewell was quiet. Outside, it had snowed surprisingly heavily - a winter onset that had not been predicted, and for us like a silent sign, as if the world was pausing for a moment.
Vito lay in his place. He no longer got up when we asked him to, no longer wanted to go for a walk, no longer wanted to chase a ball. He simply had no more energy. Once again, we offered him cream and milk foam - small, special treats that he used to love. But he refused.
Dogs often display what is known as "social withdrawal" at the end of their lives: they withdraw and lose interest in previously favourite activities or treats. This behaviour is not always an active "saying goodbye", as we interpret it from a human perspective, but a biological sign that the body no longer has the energy for activities that are not essential for survival.
In those moments, we felt that our hope - as irrational as it may have been - had to go for good. In the hours before, we had tried to make him happy, to make plans, to convince ourselves that he might "become more stable after all". But this morning showed us that it was time to let go.
Together, we decided to stop asking him to do things he could no longer do. Instead, we made him as comfortable as possible in his favourite spot - by the kitchen island, from where he could always look out over the valley and enjoy the sun shining through the window. He was allowed to lie here, he was allowed to walk here.
The last hours - closeness, love and rituals
Amalia, our other dog, was with us the whole time. It was clear to us that she should experience what was happening. We wanted to give her the opportunity to smell, feel and say goodbye - just as dogs do in their own way.
There are different views on whether other dogs should be present when a dog is put to sleep. Studies and experience show: Dogs that have the opportunity to sniff and become aware of their deceased companion often show less searching or stressful behaviour afterwards. This can help them to understand the change.
Plan your last hours consciously. You don't have to "perform" anything or create a perfect ritual. It's often the small gestures - familiar words, familiar touches, favourite places - that have meaning for the dog and you.
Euthanasia at home - a peaceful farewell
When the vet and her assistant arrived, there was a deep silence in the room. Vito even greeted them weakly - a moment that broke our hearts because we could see how exhausted he still was.
We had decided to let Vito go in his familiar surroundings. No clinic, no cold table, no stress. Just us, him, Amalia and the vet who had known him for years.
The doctor was calm and very gentle. She explained every step - not only to catch us, but also to offer Vito the best possible support.
Vito was first given a strong sedative injection. This premedication is often used to put the dog in a state where it no longer feels any fear or stress.
We sat next to Vito, stroking his fur, whispering softly to him. Amalia lay there quietly. It wasn't a moment full of panic - it was a moment full of melancholy, but also full of peace.
We could feel how the medication was working: First the dozing off, then the deep sleep. And when the last moment came, Vito was already in a place where he could no longer feel anything.
For us, this was not only important medically, but also emotionally: we wanted to be sure that Vito was neither afraid nor in pain - and we wanted to be able to say goodbye with love.
Scientific background: The three phases of euthanasia in dogs
1. sleeping pills (premedication / sedation):
This is usually a strong tranquilliser, often from the benzodiazepine or alpha-2 agonist group. The aim is to make the dog calm, anxiety-free and sleepy before anything else happens.
2. analgesic or anaesthetic (painkiller or induction of anaesthesia):
In some cases - especially with sick or very weakened animals - an additional painkiller or even a mild anaesthetic is administered.
Why? To ensure that the dog no longer has any restlessness, pain or consciousness. This is an additional protective step.
3. euthanasia injection (e.g. pentobarbital):
Only now is the medication given, which specifically stops the heart and breathing. It takes effect within seconds to a few minutes.
This three-stage procedure is particularly gentle and is often chosen when vets want to give owners maximum peace of mind - especially if the dog is being euthanised at home.
When his heart stopped beating at 2.40 pm, we first noticed it in his eyes. His expression disappeared, his body became heavy and the air in the room seemed to stand still. We had dreaded this moment - and at the same time we were grateful that we had been able to shape it in this way. We had stroked him until the end, his soft ears that we knew so well, his warm body that had accompanied us for so many years.
And then there was only silence. No breathing, no soft sighing, no pulse under the skin.
We just sat there. And we knew that this was the hardest, but at the same time most important proof of love that we could give him.
It is clear to us that a planned farewell at home was not only beneficial for the dog, but also for us. The peace and quiet, the familiar place, the opportunity to stay as long as we wanted - all of this helped us to process this moment better.
The vet explained everything to us in advance. She also prepared us for possible physical reactions, such as muscle twitching or the leakage of body fluids - things that might worry us, but are normal biological processes.
Many people are frightened at this moment because the dog's body remains warm for a while. This is because the body heat slowly decreases. Twitching or slight muscle movements can also occur - this is not the animal "coming back", but pure nerve impulses. It helped that the vet had explained this to us beforehand.
With this fourth podcast episode, we have closed a difficult chapter - Vito's last hours, our decisions and the moment of farewell. We hope that we have not only been able to share our story with you, but also give you insights and knowledge that may help you in similar situations or at least take away the fear of the unknown.
We have decided to talk about it so openly because we believe that parting and grief are part of a dog's life - and also part of the responsibility we bear as dog people.
If you ever find yourself in this situation: get knowledge, seek support, talk about it. There is no "right" or "wrong" way - but there is a loving way that you can find for you and your dog.
In the next episode, we take you into the days after the farewell.
We'll tell you why we had Vito at home for a whole weekend, what we experienced and felt during this time - and why this time was incredibly healing for us.
About Vitomalia and the authors Lui & Paulina
The name Vitomalia came from the names of their two beloved dogs: Vito and Amalia. Vito, a sensitive and cheerful dog, accompanied Lui and Paulina through many formative years. After a long, serious illness, they had to let Vito go with a heavy heart on 14 February 2025.
From this loss came the desire to not only process the experience for herself, but also to give other dog owners courage, knowledge and comfort - thus the podcast was born, as a way of coping with grief and at the same time as a platform to talk about dog ownership as it really is: full of love, challenges and growth.
Lui originally comes from a sports background, Paulina from psychology. Their shared passion for dogs brought them together. A hobby turned into a vocation: Lui trained as a behavioural therapist for dogs, Paulina specialised in dog science. They worked together as dog trainers for many years until they realised how great the need was for sensible and safe dog equipment.
This idea gave rise to the Vitomalia online shop, which is her main focus today. But their passion for the close collaboration between humans and dogs remains unbroken. In their podcast, Lui and Paulina share their experiences, their cynological knowledge and want to convey an honest, realistic view of dog ownership - without filters, without clichés, but with heart and mind.
