09/09/2026
Knowing.
I'm a frequent visitor to a couple of active social media Canine Kidney Support groups and tonight someone asked the inevitable, "how will I know when it's time?" question. This gets asked a lot. I recently listened to an interview with a vet who practices TCM and she suggested that first of all, asking strangers on social media this question can't reliably provide an answer because the people don't know you - and more importantly, don't know your pet. She said something to the effect of, "if you have to ask...it's not time."
In my group, another holistic vet answered it this way, "There is no correct answer, only opinions, including your vet. If you really want to know how it works, start by asking this question: 'Who am I that wants to know the answer to this question?' See if you can find that 'me.'"
Well this answer stood out to me for reasons that will be obvious to a lot of you. He's really asking the questioner to inquire if the question is coming from a place of awareness.
I feel like Krishnamurti (and Dr. Lad) would probably have answered similarly. Who is asking? Is it the mind that wants security, or is it seeing clearly? Is the question "when is it time" really a question? Or is it fear seeking permission, or love seeking an escape from suffering? Is it the mind trying to resolve its own discomfort by dressing it up as an inquiry about the dog?
In witnessing awareness as I understand it from Dr. Lad's teachings, there would be no sense of division between the person asking this question and the animal they're asking it about. There would be no identification with a particular emotion when asking, just an inner knowing of the answer based on the reality. That's a very nuanced, personal decision, not a simple checklist of objective signs.
It was definitely not your typical group answer.
Tonight we drove our Bear to the park and let him lay in the grass and look at...well, what I don't know, since nobody else was there (except a stray cat, which he did notice). Trees, cars and grass. Sky. Then he trotted as best he could trot towards the play structures because he loves toddler slides, and Jay helped him up the stairs so he could stand at the top and look around. A little joy medicine for him. A little nourishment in some sense, at a time when physical nourishment is greatly diminished (not for my lack of trying).