How We Told Our Toddler That Our Dog Died

. . . And Why We Chose Honesty

Stanley 2016 - 2025

We will love you always and fur-ever

There is no easy way to tell your child that someone they love has died. There is only the way that feels most honest.

When our family dog, Stanley, became sick, it happened fast.

What we thought was a short illness turned serious very suddenly, and within days we were saying goodbye.

Alongside the grief came a question we did not expect to feel so heavy.

How do you tell a three year old that your dog is gone?

Everything we were used to hearing sounded gentle on the surface.

• Stanley went to heaven.

• Stanley crossed the rainbow bridge.

• Stanley went to sleep.

• Stanley went to live on a farm.

But when we stopped and really thought about it, we realized something uncomfortable.

Those stories are not for toddlers.

They are for adults.

They soften the blow for us. They avoid the discomfort. They delay the truth.

The problem is that a toddler’s brain does not work the way ours does.

At three years old, Matteo does not understand metaphors. He understands concrete facts.

• Sleep means you wake up.

• Going somewhere means you come back.

• Farms are places you visit.

So we chose to be honest. Not cold. Not cruel. Just clear.

The Script We Used

“Matteo, I need to tell you something sad.

Stanley died.

His body got  very sick very fast.

The doctor helped him die so his body wouldn’t hurt anymore.

Stanley can’t come back.

In our family, we believe that when someone dies, their love goes to heaven.

We like to think Stanley’s love is in heaven.

You are safe.

Your dads are here.

Your body is healthy.

We loved Stanley very much.”

That was it.

No extra details. No metaphors. No stories.

Why Those Words Mattered

One line in that script makes a lot of adults uncomfortable. (My Husband included)

“The doctor helped him die.”

I understand why. It sounds blunt. It removes distance. It does not soften what happened.

That was intentional.

At three years old, Matteo does not understand euphemisms. He understands cause and effect. Stanley got sick very quickly. His body was hurting. It could not get better. Someone helped him so the pain would stop.

Leaving that part out would have created confusion later.

If Stanley was sick, went to the hospital, and never came back, the story would not make sense. Doctors are supposed to help. If they helped and Stanley still disappeared, Matteo would have been left trying to fill in the gaps on his own.

Saying the doctor helped Stanley die did three important things.

It framed the decision as an act of care, not abandonment.

It avoided phrases like “put him down,” which carry violence a toddler cannot understand.

It prevented fear around doctors by explaining that their job is to stop pain when bodies cannot heal.

Most importantly, it was true.

Not every truth needs every detail. But the truth that matters should not be hidden behind softer words that change its meaning.

Matteo did not hear cruelty in that sentence.

He heard clarity.

What Happened Next

There were no tears.

There was no panic.

There were very few questions.

The questions Matteo did ask were not emotional spirals. They were confirmations.

“Stanley’s body is broken?”

“Yes.”

“The doctor helped Stanley die?”

“Yes.”

“Stanley’s love is in heaven?”

“Yes.”

Each time, I repeated exactly what I had already said. I did not add new information. I did not change the language. I did not soften it further.

Over the next four to five days, usually before bed because that is when I first told him, he would ask again. Not urgently. Just checking.

And each time, I answered the same way.

What It Looks Like Now

Now we look at pictures of Stanley together on my phone. We laugh about how silly he was. We talk about how soft he was.

Sometimes Matteo looks up and says, “Good night, Stanley. I love you.”

And that’s the end of it.

The Part No One Talks About

• This approach is not easier.

• It is exceptionally hard on us.

• It is hard to say the words.

• It is hard to repeat them.

• It is hard to hear your child repeat them back to you so plainly.

But here is what matters.

Matteo was not confused.

Matteo was not scared.

Matteo was not left wondering if Stanley might come back.

He was told the truth by someone he trusts.

Someday, he will not remember the exact words I used.

But he will remember that when something hard happened, one of his dads told him the truth and stayed with him while he learned how to hold it.

That matters more than anything.

A Takeaway for Parents

Toddlers do not need stories to protect them.
They need clarity to feel safe.

Using simple, honest language does not make loss bigger. It makes it understandable.
What feels harsh to us often feels grounding to them.

Repeat the same words.
Answer only what they ask.
Resist the urge to soften the truth for your own comfort.

Your child may not cry. They may ask the same questions again and again. That is not a lack of feeling. It is how their brain learns permanence.

If you are navigating a hard conversation like this and want help finding the words, we created a simple parent resource that walks through the exact script we used, along with guidance on what to say, what to avoid, and why consistency matters. You can find it here:

Talking to Toddlers About Death

Most importantly, your child will remember that when something hard happened, one of their parents told them the truth and stayed with them while they learned how to carry it.

That trust is what lasts.

Looking Ahead

This experience has stayed with me.

It has also planted the seed for a future story in the Matteo and Antonio Adventures series, one that gently explores loss, death, or saying goodbye in a way that is honest, age appropriate, and rooted in emotional safety.

Not a story meant to shield kids from hard truths.

But one meant to walk beside them while they learn how to understand them.

If and when that book comes, it will be written with the same principle we used here.

Clear. Honest. Loving.

For more little lessons like this, check out littlelessonsmedia.com and sign up for our email list where we share stories, reflections, and updates from the Matteo and Antonio Adventures.

Because sometimes the greatest little lessons are the hardest ones to teach.