What animals know about dying
By Sara Engram
Bear was a beloved old dog, dying of cancer.
As he neared death, his owner reluctantly scheduled an appointment to have him put down.
But the night before, Bear did something out of character.
Instead of curling up in his usual hallway spot and drifting off to sleep, he visited each family member's bedroom.
One by one, he nudged his nose through the doorways, seeking out the people he’d spent his life with. He let each of them pet him, then returned to his place in the hall.
They woke the next morning to discover that Bear had died peacefully in his sleep.
His quiet goodbye saved his owner the agony of taking him on that final trip to the vet.
She called a friend with the news, exclaiming through her tears: "He didn’t make me do it, did he?"
What did Bear know? Was it just a coincidence?
Any of us who have shared our lives with an animal probably have a ready answer for those questions.
Even if we can’t fully explain it, our own experiences tell us that Bear knew something.
Stories that echo our own
British biologist Rupert Sheldrake has collected hundreds of stories like this. They are anecdotes about dogs, cats, and other companion animals who seem to behave with uncanny intuition at the end of life.
In some cases, they rally unexpectedly for a final moment of connection. In others, like Bear, they seem to choose their time, leaving their humans with what seems like a mix of grief and grace.
A woman wrote to Sheldrake about her dying cat. She had placed him gently in his bed and stepped away for a moment. As she returned, she saw that he had struggled out of bed to make his way toward her.
When she scooped him up, he let out one long purr before slipping away.
She understood his message. He wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to be with her when he died.
These stories feel familiar, perhaps because they echo something we understand.
Hospice workers often report similar moments – end-of-life experiences of a final rally of energy, a moment of clarity, a parting message.
Sheldrake’s collection of stories shows that humans aren’t the only creatures who can feel a strong urge to connect with others as death approaches.
Death as a teacher
After all, we’ve already learned big lessons from them:
- Birds and insects inspired flying machines.
- Bats taught us about sonar.
- Wolf packs helped us understand social bonding.
What if their end-of-life experiences offer clues not just about biology, but also about presence, acceptance, and connection?
That’s especially true for our companion animals. But what about other animals?
I’ve watched generations of squirrels dart across yards, scamper up trees, and try to raid bird feeders.
But I almost never see dead squirrels unless they’ve been hit by a car. Where do they go when it’s time to die?
Do they seek out hidden places for protection or solitude? How do they know when to do that?
Animals may not understand mortality the same way we do. But it seems obvious that they know what they need to know about death.
Perhaps that’s why those moments of clarity described in end-of-life experiences feel so poignant.
They remind us that dying doesn’t always need fixing.
Sometimes it just needs presence. And moments to honor our connections with each other.
A lesson in letting go
When Mae cried over Bear, her words to her friend expressed her relief. He had spared her that agonizing trip to the vet.
And he had given her a glimpse of how to let go with grace.
That sounds like wisdom worth honoring.
Sara Engram writes Mortal Matters, a weekly reflection on mortality, meaning, and the stories we leave behind. Read more at https://saraengram.substack.com/
Copyright Sara Engram 2025 Reprinted by permission.
