What happens to our pets when they die? I’ve been called on to write and deliver messages many times when people pass away. I decided to do something similar for Sampson. He was a member of our family for sure, and we all grieved. But what does God’s Word say about the death of our animals? Below, I remember our dog. His life was storied indeed! But I also try to shed some light on the bigger questions: How does God’s love extend into painful things like the loss of beloved dog? Is there hope? And that other important question – do our dogs go to heaven when they die? Warning – this one makes people laugh and cry. But it’s good. May the Lord bless you as you read.

Sampson Alexander – September 21, 2026

Today is the day we bury our beloved beast, Sampson. But I want to remember him first.

He was born between March and April 2019. He was advertised and purchased as a chocolate lab without papers.  However, he was later proven to be half Catahoula, 20.9% Lab, 18.2% Golden, 10.9% Weimaraner.

He was named for the unincorporated area known as Sampson, Florida, near our home, but also for Saint Sampson, the patron saint of hospitality. Did he live into that? Sometimes.  Sometimes not.

He was probably less than six weeks old when we got him – we suspect more false advertising.  He had a scar on his leg and was unstable when he walked – but he would get over that. We had a little brown stuffed animal puppy we put in his box with him.  It was the same size and color as Sampson. He seemed to love that stuffed puppy and ended up having a life-long relationship with it. He would suckle it. It seemed to calm him. That, and a few other clues, led us to think maybe he was taken from his mother too young. He kept suckling that puppy for the rest of his life and would play carefully with it. He did not ever destroy it. Heather repaired it a few times when it’s stiches would fail, but he never pulled it apart – like he did many other things – electrical cords, a chair leg, a battery (which led to a Pet ER visit), but not the little brown stuffed puppy. It was his comfort puppy.

He was initially Heather and Sarah’s dog, but eventually, he claimed Seth more than anyone else, followed closely by Jared. I think he had some ambitions to be the Alpha dog at our house, but he eventually yielded a bit on that and accepted his place. But he claimed us as his own. We were his pack. One day our neighbors up the street brought home a cute little yellow lab puppy, Sonny.  Sarah and I were visiting with the neighbors in our front yard and meeting the new puppy.  Sampson observed, walked behind Sarah while she gave attention to the puppy, and peed on her! He seemed to say, “Hey puppy, this one is mine.”

He loved his people and his people loved him. He always wanted to be with us. And we wanted to be with him. He would be elated if he met one of us away from the house. Ahead of family gatherings, he seemed to catch on that his people were coming. He would wait attentively, hopefully, expectantly. He met Junia, the newest member of our family, this past summer. We wondered how that introduction would go. He seemed to catch on quickly she was one of us – part of the pack. And he would have to be careful around this one. He liked it when the pack was all together.

He grew to be a very fast runner. He delighted in chasing tennis balls and would run to the point of exhaustion for Seth or Jared – and sometimes for me. He also delighted in chasing and popping soccer balls. We had to be careful, because he would eat the tennis balls and portions of the soccer balls, too. (If he got portions down, we’d see them later.) He seemed to like it when we would send a ball into the woods – the deeper the better. He’d go bounding in after them and eagerly hunt them down, and then race out, usually dropping the ball at the edge of the woods in order to chase after another.  And he loved to play tug-of-war with the rope. He would clamp down with his jaws and hold tight and not let go even go even if he went airborne. And he loved to jump in the pool to retrieve tennis balls – something he did for the last time about a month ago.

Early on, we noticed that when he ran hard, his back leg would shake. But it never troubled him. When he was hot and worn out from chasing the balls, he would come, flop on the tile, and let his tongue hang out on the ground, and pant like a train. Slimy dog droll would cover the area. You had to be careful where you stepped.

We brought him with us on family vacations. He traveled well and loved exploring new places with us. He wasn’t too easy to take on trails, but he could swim. He swam in the gulf. He swam in the Chattahoochee River in Helen, GA. He swam in a frozen lake near Brevard, North Carolina to retrieve tennis balls. He swam in several pools near Venice. But his favorite place to swim was at home across the street in the neighbor’s pool. He won their hearts and along with it, pool privileges. We were grateful for that many reasons, not least of all because he was ready to fight anyone who tried to give him a bath.

He befriended the neighbors. Dee and Bev, across the street, were like his grandparents. They are the ones who gave him pool privileges. He’d go over to their house to swim and play. He’d walk over to wag his tail and say “hi” – and get some treats. He stayed with Donna, Maurey, and Matt a few times when we went out of town. They’d spoil him. He loved it. He’d visit the Hope and Aarren’s garage if it was open – hoping to find access to their dog’s food. And he was friends with some of the neighbor’s dog – especially Coby and Daisy. There was a tiny dog named Maple – about the size of Sampson’s head. Seeing those walking as friends together was comical. After Sonny got big, he and Sampson went at it once in our yard, but no one was hurt. Sampson tolerated Jazz who would romp in our yard. Heather and Sampson took daily morning walks and Sampson got to know many dogs.  One dog, a female Doodle named Marley, loved Sampson. Our neighbor’s Blue Terrier, Titan, was his chief rival for years. Sampson would taunt that poor dog at the risk of his life, because Titan could have taken him out. One time, Titan almost got him.  As I remember it, we were walking past Titan’s house and Titan broke away from his owner, Jim, and came after Sampson. Jim was trying to catch Titan. I was trying to keep Titan from catching Sampson. Sampson wanted to fight but was on his leash. I lifted and pulled enough so that Sampson could get no traction and eventually was basically airborne. Titan was slipping on road, running in circles, and Jim finally caught him. Everyone survived. As they got older, the seemed to learn to tolerate each other. No more attempts to fight – just territorial growls and barks and lots of competitive peeing on certain landmarks.

He had annoying habits. Every dog does, I suspect. He would duck away and not let you pet him on the head. He would distance himself from people who wanted him to be close and get too close to people who wanted him to stay at a distance. He would bark when no one was there – and would only stop after he was allowed to look outside for himself. He would bark loudly and too long when his favorite people showed up and had to be repeatedly scolded, or he would not be quiet. He would howl when we tried to play piano, guitar, or ukelele. He would also howl for the sirens of emergency vehicles. His howls would often evolve into painfully loud barks. But his annoying habits were also endearing. The howls, for example, seemed to be in key.  Later in his life, his howl broke. He would put his head back to howl and only air would come out. We missed it. We missed our dog’s howl.

And, while I know some people think dogs are sinless, I’m a Presbyterian. My theology says the corrupting influence of sin touches all creation – even dogs. Like every dog I’ve known, Sampson struggled with food lust. And then, though he never spoke in words, he would lie. He would pretend to not have eaten a thing hoping to get more. And he struggled with self-control. Jesus commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves – all our neighbors. But Sampson was selective about which neighbors he would love. For a while our immediate neighbors were a crew from a local Japanese steak house. He did not like them. He would growl and bark if they were outside. And he would occasionally charge after people who were just walking by – ignoring me even as I was calling back. But that said – he loved people far better than most people I know. If he loved you, his whole body let you know it. He showed love and he showed grace. I’m a sinner, too, you know. I lost patience with my dog many times, and sometimes he experienced my anger, um, unleashed. Often that anger was really the hand-me-down variety. Its source was not Sampson’s behavior. He just happened, unfortunately, to be near when it came out. We’d have “words.” But we’d make up. I didn’t deserve it, but he’d forgive me – that grace. It was like it never happened.

This summer, he started having problems when we came back from vacation. Ear infection, blockage, and eventually spinal issues. He started to have days of pain. It was awful. But he’d have good days, too. Good days and bad days eventually became good moments and bad moments, vet visits, medication, more medication, and hard decisions we didn’t want to make. All that led to this day.

So today, here we go. What does God’s word have to say about the life and death of a dog? Today we will put him down – probably in about an hour and a half. Dr. Erin will arrive from Hearts at Home. Afterward, I will bury my dog. I already dug his grave. I dug it this morning while Sampon played nearby with a soccer ball. He was having some good moments. Medication is great.  But it really wore him out. His back started arching again. If it weren’t for the meds, he’d probably be in major pain. As it is, he’s resting – a torn-up soccer ball not far away. His grave is not far from Isaac’s and Duncan’s. 

Today, twenty-seven years ago, is the day my mother passed away. She also died in the afternoon. Isaac, our family’s first dog, also died in September.

Scriptures have been very helpful. Heather, last night, read Psalm 121 – that’s been a sustaining prayer for us. It was also one of my mother’s favorites.

Jonah 4 brought me to tears the other night, with the assurance that God cares about the animals – even the cattle of Nineveh. 

Brother Joe sent me Proverbs 12:10 – which says that a righteous man has regard for the life of his beast – which is contrasted with the cruelty of the wicked. Hmm. Animals matter to God. How we treat our animals matters to God.

When Jesus told people that not even a sparrow can fall without God noticing, he was teaching them not to be worried about tomorrow. God cares for the sparrows.  And yes, God cares for us even more – but don’t lose sight of the fact that God cares for sparrows, and for cattle, and for our beasts, and for our family pets, too. God cares for Sampson. Wow. And our concern for our animals reflects something of the character of God.

In Genisis, God brought the animals to Adam to name them. That particular scripture is setting up the introduction for Eve. But, again, don’t miss this: Adam’s first job was naming animals. In naming them, he bestowed on them a certain dignity. God named the Man. The Man named the animals. When we name our pets, we are unknowingly participating in God’s work of giving dignity to an animal. When we named our dogs.  – and our kids have continued this – naming animals of their own – we say they matter to us.  Animals matter to God. We, created in God’s image, show it when we demonstrate that animals matter to us.

All the earth and all within it belongs to God. He loans it to us for a season. We work in and care for creation. In our urbanized world, we can miss that. We miss what farmers know through the work of farming. The stuff of earth we care for is not really ours. It’s stewardship, not ownership. The world belongs to God and so do our animals. All of it will be taken from us one day – as Sampson is being taken today. Sampson, in his doggy way, has reminded me that I am called to be a steward of part of God’s creation. If I don’t do the job God called me to as a dog-owner, God’s creation suffers. That’s not okay. Knowing that, we know it is right to relieve the suffering of our beast.

Now, here’s the difficulty. My brother pointed out that children commonly encounter death’s reality – its sting – when a pet dies. Why do they die? Are they really gone? What happens after they die?

And Jared’s girlfriend Samantha pointed this out: What makes this so hard is that Sampson’s mind is pretty good. She’s right. His personality is intact. He still greets his favorites with enthusiasm. He still wants to play as much as he can. But he’d be in intense pain if it weren’t for the drugs. His body is failing and it’s getting worse. It would be chemo or intrusive surgery with little chance of recovery. But does he understand?  It seems unfair, unjust. He’ll be missing out on so much life. It just isn’t right. Does it have to end this way? And it hurts. Our hearts grieve. It’s wrong. Why does this hurt so bad?

My mother had wisdom to answer kids (and adults) with those kinds of questions. She would say, “If you have to have your dog with you to be happy in heaven, your dog will be with you.”  Dogs in heaven. Hmm.  All dogs go to heaven is a cliché, a movie title, comforting words for kids. But is it not just wishful thinking? Eternal reward for a dog comforts our hearts. Should we just pretend she was right? Or was my mom’s wisdom rooted in the hope found in scripture?

In the end of Revelation, we get a picture of how things end up.  In Revelation 21, Jesus is speaking. He says, “Behold, I am making all things new.”  He says death will be no more. Tears will be wiped away. There will be no more mourning. No crying. No pain. God will be walking with us. Death will be no more.

Jesus says, “All things…”  All things includes Sampson. All things will be made new.  As if he knew it sounds too good to be true, Jesus adds in the same passage, “The words are faithful and true.”  We can trust Jesus.

And so today, I will trust God’s word for Sampson – and for all my previous dogs who got my heart. Each one of them got my heart in their time. I don’t know if my dogs will be friends in the New Creation, but I don’t think they’ll hang out in New Jerusalem.  I think they will want to swim in the lakes, play in the mud, run in the woods, chase after squirrels they won’t harm – remember, no death in the New Creation – but the joy of the chase will be multiplied, I think. Sampson will lead them in howling in harmony. They will form a pack of joyful freedom. I imagine the time may come when I will encounter my dogs. What a fun reunion that will be. And I imagine they will greet me enthusiastically – these friendly and familiar dogs who are no longer hindered by their instinct to kill squirrels and such – no more food lust, no more territorial battles, no more need to protect me from the Amazon delivery man. I will throw a stick in the lake for Isaac. I’ll give a balloon to Bo. Duncan can run free and far, following his nose. Sam will sniff out anyone who hides.  And Sampson will chase and eat Tennis balls and suffer no indigestion.

And I think they’ll run off together. Maybe I’ll run with the from time to time. Maybe my dad will run with me with other family members, with friends, with other dogs. And my mom will nod and smile as her wisdom will have proven good and true.

Those dogs will head out to explore the Earth-made-new, for Jesus will have made all things new.  All things. New. All things.

Sampson won’t miss out on a thing.