These veterinarians are honored to do one thing — put ailing pets out of their misery

Rebecca Tollefson has been told she has an awful job. Her colleague, Tali McNeil, has heard, "I could never do this," when people learn how she earns a living. And their co-worker Kelly Lessard has been asked, "How can you do this every day?"

Tollefson, McNeil and Lessard are veterinarians with an unusual but growing specialty: They make house calls to euthanize ailing pets.

Despite what other people might think about their work, they find it uniquely rewarding. With each visit, they leave knowing they've relieved an animal's suffering and pain and allowed a pet to spend its last moments peacefully surrounded by loved ones in the comfort of its own home.

"I've never received as much gratitude as I have in doing this work," Lessard said. "It's one of the most rewarding jobs in the world."

The company they work for, MN Pets, has a staff of 13 veterinarians, who will put down 400 to 500 pets a month in the Twin Cities. It was started in 2010 by local veterinarian Rebecca McComas, who'd heard of a few mobile veterinary practices specializing in pet euthanasia at home in other parts of the country, but found nothing like that in Minnesota.

Despite having second thoughts about starting a business focused on death, she quickly found the practice more heartfelt than surgery or teaching. Soon, she was hiring veterinarians and social workers to help with the growing demand.

Since then, the number of veterinary practices specializing in at-home euthanasia has grown from about a dozen nationwide to 600 or 700 now, with seven or eight such practices in the Twin Cities area, she said.

Many vet clinics refer clients to an in-home service when an animal is nearing the end of its life. They recognize that it can be hard for pet owners to say goodbye in a clinical environment. Home euthanasia spares pet owners the sad experience of having to walk through a waiting room full of healthy animals and happy owners.

"It is certainly heartbreaking to walk out of there with an empty pet carrier," said MN Pets veterinarian Meredith Lum. "There's nothing like the comfort of your own home."

No place like home

Home is the place where a pet will be the most happy and relaxed. It's also where family members can feel free to say goodbye in a way that's meaningful to them.

Euthanasia vets say they've seen clients pray, play music, light candles or incense or burn sage. Others recite poems or write letters that are then cremated with their pet. One pet Lessard cared for got to watch its favorite cartoon.

Some pet owners choose to keep their pet for hours after it's been put to sleep to have a wake for their pet, giving extended family or friends a chance to stop in to say goodbye or express condolences.

And if the pet still has an appetite, it's common for pet owners to offer a favorite farewell treat: steak, bacon, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, Cheerios, ice cream or cupcakes. Lum remembers seeing a dog get chocolate, normally forbidden because it's toxic for dogs.

"The way this dog's face lit up eating a Reese's peanut butter cup, you could feel the joy in the sadness," she said.

With in-home euthanasia, pet owners also can choose a special spot for their pet's last moments — on the porch or at the end of the dock, under a shady tree or on a favorite bed.

Jeff Bauer's yellow lab Morgan had to be put down in 2019 after nearly 14 years with the family.

"His quality of life was poor, and we didn't want to prolong his suffering," Bauer said. "We knew we wanted to have a dignified transitional experience for Morgan."

After contacting MN Pets, the family gathered at their Inver Grove Heights home, where everyone had popcorn and beer, including Morgan. "He's on the way out the door. Let's give Morgan a beer," Bauer said.

Compassionate care

The MN Pets vets typically have four appointments a day, with a two-hour block of time for each appointment. They go over the process with the owners, then administer a sedative to the pet via injection. Tollefson said she'll step aside to let the owners be with the pet as it falls asleep.

Then the veterinarian administers a pentobarbital euthanasia solution. The process is painless and quick: It takes only about 2 minutes before the heart stops beating, Tollefson said.

"He just kind of slowed down and went to sleep," Bauer said of Morgan's end. "It's kind of like home hospice, but for pets."

For Bauer, it was important that the family cat, Token, could witness the process because Token and Morgan were good friends.

"Animals have feelings and they also grieve as much as we do. Token buried his head in Morgan and didn't move for a while," he said. "The cat obviously recognized that Morgan wasn't there anymore."

Unless the owner has made different arrangements, the vet will use a bed-like carrier to take the pet out of the home. It will then be taken to be cremated or stored until cremation is available. A wooden urn with the pet's cremated remains can then be picked up at the MN Pets office in Oakdale, sent to the pet's regular vet or mailed or hand-delivered to the home.

They mainly euthanize dogs and cats, but also birds, hamsters, guinea pigs, rats or other small pets.

MN Pets charges $325 for a euthanasia home visit. It's another $235 to $350 for cremation and return of your pet's ashes. That's generally more expensive than having a pet euthanized at a clinic, but MN Pets also has established a "Buddy Fund" to provide financial assistance to pet owners who can't afford the service.

McComas sold the practice in 2021 when she retired. MN Pets is now owned by Blue River PetCare, a Chicago-based veterinary practice management company. Kristi Lehman, vice president of MN Pets, said business is growing and she'd like to add more veterinarians, including in the Duluth area.

It's not a job for everyone. There's a lot of driving and a lot of emotion, but also a lot of satisfaction.

"I end the day knowing everyone is at peace," Tollefson said.

"It's such a compassionate thing we can do for our suffering pets," said Lum. "It's really been a life-changing job for me."

My cat Mabel has struggled with health issues for years.

Together we've dealt with inflammatory bowel disease, a pancreatic condition and chronic weight loss with a host of medications, prescription foods, weekly vitamin B-12 injections, emergency surgeries.

But I didn't consider putting her to sleep until a few months ago, when her weight continued to drop despite medication to stimulate her appetite and she became increasingly frail.

What made it harder, however, was that she was more affectionate than ever, always wanting to be in my lap or head-butting the dog. I wondered if she were ingratiating herself so I would keep her alive. But one day, when she pressed herself close to me, I thought: What if this is her way of asking for help?

MN Pets was one of the mobile pet euthanization practices that my veterinarian referred me to. When I first talked to them, the vets there used the word "help" a lot, as in "I helped a rabbit the other day." "I helped 300 animals last year." What they were doing was helping a loved animal by ending its pain and suffering.

On the day of Mabel's appointment, I got one of her favorite treats: rotisserie chicken. She gobbled it with so much relish, I wondered if I was ending her life too soon. But Meredith Lum, the MN Pets veterinarian who came to my house, assured me that it can be a compassionate thing to say goodbye on a good day when your last memories of your pet can be happy ones.

"It's better to do it a week early than a day too late," Lum said.

Lum let me decide when and where it would happen. I considered a couple of the cat's favorite places, but settled for just holding Mabel on my lap on the couch. When I was ready, Lum injected Mabel with a sedative. Mabel didn't react to the needle, and within a minute she was in a deep sleep.

Until then, Jenny the dog had been enjoying herself. She had gotten lots of pats and her share of rotisserie chicken. But now she also was lying quietly on the couch. This is how we had spent a lot of our evenings, with Jenny at one end of the couch, me at the other end, and the cat between us or on my lap.

When I was ready for the next step, Lum gave Mabel the final injection. Less than a minute later, she checked Mabel with her stethoscope and said, "She passed."

The end was silent, peaceful and imperceptible. A virtuous cat who passed mildly away and whispered to her soul to go, as John Donne would say.

Lum made a paw print in a disk of molding clay and stepped out onto the porch to let me have time alone with Mabel. Jenny sniffed at her and licked her ear.

Mabel was about 14. We had been together 12 years.

Lum set Mabel in wicker basket, tucked a blanket around her and carried her outside while I put Jenny on a leash and we went out to watch them leave. Mabel would be cremated. Her ashes would come back to me in an urn.

Goodbye for now, Mabel.