Walking With Milli: Animal Communication During the Dying Process

There are animals who arrive in our lives at exactly the moment our hearts are breaking — not by accident, but by invitation.

Milli came to me during one of the lowest seasons of my life. My mother was in hospice, dying of cancer. My marriage was ending. My heart dog, Jack, was battling cancer. I could feel a void opening before any of the losses had fully happened. I remember consciously calling in a female dog to help soften what I knew was coming.

I searched online for weeks. Nothing felt right.

Then one day, while taking Jack to the groomer, I saw her.

The shop owner had two six-month-old Shelties available. They weren’t the right size for showing, so she was looking to rehome them. The moment I saw those dogs, I felt something settle inside me. It wasn’t logic — it was knowing. Intuitively, I could see a new positive life unfolding with them.

This story is about Milli. I’ll share more about her brother Floyd another time.

Milli is spunky, sassy, and breathtakingly beautiful. Her soft almond eyes look straight into your soul when she wants attention. She brought bounce, laughter, and joy into my life when I needed it most. She is my loyal shadow — always by my side, even when she doesn’t feel well.

Living With Advanced Kidney Disease in Dogs

For the past year, Milli has been living with advanced kidney disease. At 16½ years old, she is navigating it with remarkable resilience.

Through my work communicating with animals over the years, I’ve learned how this illness often feels from their perspective: waves of nausea, stomach pain and burning, unquenchable thirst, and moments of feeling overheated or chilled. Understanding these sensations helps me anticipate her needs and respond with compassion rather than fear.

Her care routine is extensive — subcutaneous fluids at home, anti-nausea medication, frequent small meals, and a constantly evolving menu of home-cooked food. Appetite changes are common in late-stage kidney disease. Some days she wants smooth, creamy textures. Other days she wants something to chew. I know because I can sense the texture she sends to me, telepathically. 

Managing chronic illness is exhausting — physically and emotionally — for both animal and caregiver. But it is also deeply intimate. We learn each other in new ways.

How Animal Communication Supports Comfort and Care

One of the greatest blessings during this time has been the ability to communicate with Milli directly.

Animal communication isn’t abstract during illness — it becomes practical. Daily check-ins help me understand when she’s hungry, what texture of food she prefers, whether she’s feeling nauseated, or simply wants closeness. These conversations guide decisions that no lab result alone can answer.

Twice in the past year, veterinarians have suggested euthanasia based solely on lab values. Yet Milli continues to rebound in ways that surprise everyone. Her resilience is not denial — it’s communication. She is clear that she is not ready to go.

This is where animal communication becomes invaluable: it allows the animal to remain an active participant in their own care rather than a passive patient.

The Emotional Reality of Caring for a Dying Pet

Over the course of her hospital stays and recovery periods, I’ve had what I call “The Talk” with Milli — honest conversations about comfort, suffering, and transition.

Her message has been consistent:

She is not afraid of death.
She still has things to teach me.
She is loyal and present until the end.

Yes, there are painful moments. But her desire is to experience this phase in her own way. My role is not to hold onto her for my sake — it is to ensure her comfort while honoring her wishes.

For many pet guardians, this is the most difficult emotional territory: deciding when to help a beloved animal transition. The uncertainty can feel unbearable. Fear of suffering, fear of acting too soon, fear of waiting too long — all of it lives in the heart at once.

Animal communication provides a bridge through that uncertainty. It doesn’t eliminate grief or responsibility, but it replaces guesswork with relationship.

Understanding the Dying Process From an Animal’s Perspective

Every animal soul approaches the end of life differently.

Some are ready early.
Some linger because they are teaching something important.
Some want assistance transitioning.
Others prefer to move on naturally when their body completes its work.

There is no universal script.

Animals may communicate readiness through emotional tone, energy shifts, behavioral changes, or direct intuitive messages. They are not confused about death in the way humans often are. Many view it as a continuation rather than an ending.

Sometimes pets wait to transition on their own until their humans step out of the room or travel — not out of abandonment, but love — knowing the moment might be too painful for us to witness.

Recognizing this individuality allows us to move from fear-based decision making to partnership.

Trust me, I’m learning this as I take it day by day with Milli. There are moments of feeling like I’m walking on eggshells and other times of peacefulness.

Honoring an Animal’s Wishes at the End of Life

My goal with Milli is simple: honor her voice while keeping her as comfortable as possible.

She continues to teach me patience, presence, and trust — lessons that only emerge when we stop trying to control the timeline and start listening deeply.

This is what I see again and again in my animal communication work: when guardians invite their animals into the conversation, decisions become clearer, softer, and rooted in love rather than panic.

The dying process is not only about loss. It is about relationship, dignity, and honoring the wisdom animals carry.

And right now, Milli is still very much here — living, teaching, and loving with her whole heart.

As I sit with Milli each day — adjusting her meals, giving fluids, listening to her cues — I’m reminded that the dying process is not a single moment.

It is a relationship unfolding in real time. It asks for presence more than certainty, listening more than control.

Milli is teaching me that love doesn’t rush the ending. It walks beside it.

If you are caring for an animal facing illness, know that your desire to do right by them already comes from love. There is no perfect script — only the willingness to stay connected, to observe, to listen, and to honor their experience alongside your own.

Right now, Milli is still here — teaching, loving, and reminding me that even in uncertainty, there is profound meaning in simply being together.

And that may be the greatest gift our animals offer us: the invitation to remain fully present in the moments we still have.

Next week, I’ll share more about how animals communicate their wishes as the end of life approaches — why each animal views transition differently, and how guardians can listen with compassion instead of fear when facing one of the hardest decisions we make for our beloved companions.