Owning dogs is great fun when they're young and energetic.

But as they age, the early morning walks and romps in the yard become sweet memories. The first major health crisis in an older dog immediately raises the question: When is the time?

We're indignant when a severely ill or incapacitated person is helped into the world beyond by means other than natural death. But "putting a pet to sleep" is a common practice since we've adopted pets into our homes, where they're sheltered from many perils of natural life and death.

But when is the time? Let me use our own dog -- a Collie/Shepherd mix -- to illustrate. At about fourteen, her hip dysplasia became a constant slight limp. But one summer evening after a walk, she was exhausted and close to collapse. Our house was up for sale and a move to another state imminent. When I took her to the vet the next day, the question loomed large in my mind: Would it be wise to plan on taking her with us? Was this the time to terminate her life? It would make the move easier and a new beginning without her possibly less painful. Her vet assured me that many dogs in her condition would not be around anymore. My conscience should be clear. But it wasn't.

A cortisone shot and other medications saw the dog through the initial pain. Fleas and worms weakened her, but were hard to treat. Recovery was slow and involved hand feeding and daily cleanups. How much of this could we handle while showing the house almost daily?

Fortunately, we were blessed with the expertise of two neighbors who were both professors at the local veterinary college. They had seen us daily with our Duchess and knew the pain of making this final decision for a loved pet. Either to appease us or to voice their professional opinions, they both agreed that the dog was very sick but not near her end. Her coat had a healthy feel and her eyes were alert, even though her hearing and vision were waning. They thought she might still have six months to a year of life in her.

The seven-hundred-mile trip was less traumatic than anticipated. In fact, Duchess perked up at the new sights and smells along the way. Even staying in a hotel for a week posed only an occasional clean-up problem (on our own cheap rug remnants). We found a new vet who prescribed more worm medication, a better flea product and Rimadyl® for arthritis. The recovery continued. Duchess enjoyed the stimulating new surroundings.

Leaving her out too long in the yard one cool fall day brought on the next crisis. Trying to feed her food that had been sitting around uneaten for two days triggered another one. Each time we thought the time had arrived. We were back to hand feeding, nightly trips outdoors or cleaning up if we had slept through her need. Lack of sleep while adjusting to a new job frayed our nerves.

But we hadn't thought through all the arrangements. Bury her in the yard or in the local pet cemetery? Have her cremated and disposed of, or have the ashes brought back home for burial? Might a vet be able to come home for the final shot or would we have to take her to his office?

To her luck -- or credit -- all this went on around Christmas time when we were also busy with house guests. Right after Christmas, it rained so much that any kind of burial would have been impossible. Finally, one day in January, we put all the pieces together. We went to the pet cemetery, picked out an urn, and found out how and by whom she would be transported to the crematorium in another city. But as if she had sensed our doings, she began to eat voraciously and gained a bit of weight. Now, getting up is a problem at times but she can do it if she gives it her all.

When is the time? We don't know. For one of our friends the time came when the dog had an apparent liver failure and was then diagnosed as riddled with cancer. Others have told us that the animals will let us know when they don't want to live anymore. There have been times when I thought I heard that plea from my dog. Yet she is still with us and in good spirits five months after the move.

Some owners make the decision when they can no longer handle the needs of their pets. Old people end up in nursing homes when they become incontinent. Pets are left to the tolerance level of their owners. If we weren't able to be at home during the day, our dog would not live anymore. She needs too much attention with lifting and letting her out at the right times. One friend with a menagerie of two dogs and three cats and vet bills to match tells me, that for her, the time comes only when the animals are hurting and can't be helped. As long as the medications work, this can take many more months.

Our former vet neighbor was able to do something very loving when his dog could no longer get up and was in miserable shape. He gave the dog one dose of a strong pain-killing drug to help him forget his pain. Then he let the dog roam his favorite woods one more time. When he had curled up beside his master, exhausted but sleeping full of dog memories, his master gave him the final shot and cried long afterwards.

When is the time? It's a question without a simple answer. Whole pharmaceutical industries live off our indecision and kindness. I hope that I'll know when the day arrives and we all are ready for Duchess to leave for good and to say our final good-byes.

P.S. One night in early February she succumbed and passed away. We will miss her but she chose the day. It happened less than twenty-four hours after her old friend and former neighbor, riddled with cancer, had been put to sleep. Her remains now rest under a freshly planted dogwood tree in the yard.