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Tina Fadjo-Jackson says it’s hard to describe her late dog Xen, a boxer. She was a part of the family, walking alongside Fadjo-Jackson as she raised her children. What words could possibly get across what Xen meant to her? When pressed, though, she rustled up just a few descriptors: “She was the best. Emotional, docile, loyal, beautiful. A wonderful, kind soul. Very intelligent. Incredible. She was my baby.”
As time neared in 2020 for Xen to “cross the rainbow bridge”—the euphemism many animal lovers use to refer to pet death—Fadjo-Jackson wanted her to die warm in her bed with her family surrounding her. She called up Compassionate Care, a local in-home euthanasia service to schedule 16-year-old Xen’s final day. Then she changed her mind and canceled it. Then rescheduled it. Then canceled it again.
“They said that was normal,” Fadjo-Jackson says. “They said that we would know it in the moment when she was ready, and that really did happen.”
At 3:30 am one September morning, Fadjo-Jackson and her husband knew for sure it was time. A veterinarian from Compassionate Care was on her doorstep about an hour later. Xen died peacefully, and the Fadjo family could grieve privately. Three years later, she had to call the company again for her mini English bulldog, Iggy.
Our furry friends’ time earthside is never long enough. In-home euthanasia companies are there to relieve an animal’s suffering and also help ease humans into their grief. The founder of Compassionate Care, veterinarian Lori Gibson, estimates that 75% of the care in a euthanasia appointment is for the humans, 25% for the pets.
The pet part is pretty straightforward: The vet sedates the animal with a shot and then gives a second, intravenous injection to stop its heart. After examining the pet and declaring it deceased, the vet usually takes it away in a blanket or on a stretcher for cremation, unless the family has a burial planned. The service costs about $400, plus the cost of cremation.
In-home euthanasia came onto Gibson’s radar at her first veterinarian job. She worked at a high-volume, low-cost clinic that didn’t take appointments. The chaos was a great learning experience, confirming her suspicion that she didn’t want to pursue a traditional veterinary practice. There was a sticky note at the front desk that had information for clients about in-home euthanasia, but it wasn’t a mainstream practice. The idea stuck with Gibson for a decade, though, and finally she started Compassionate Care in 2009.
Back then, Compassionate Care was the area’s only 24/7 exclusively in-home euthanasia provider, though there are more now. The company serves pets within a one-hour radius of Portland with its team of 17 veterinarians plus about 25 other employees, including crematory staff, care specialists who answer the phones, and administrative executives like Gibson. Gibson estimates that her company has grown by about 10% each year, except for during the COVID pandemic when it jumped by about 35% in both 2020 and 2021.
At first, though, it was just Gibson. Lots of people told her—and continue to tell Compassionate Care vets all the time—that they can’t imagine how she can do such an emotionally charged job every day. And it does take a certain type of person to go into this line of work. They must have empathy, high emotional intelligence, and an ability to read people. Overseeing half a dozen deaths in one day (that would be a busy one, but not unheard of) takes a toll, especially for the sensitive. But the rewards are enormous.
“People are so appreciative of what we do,” Gibson says. “People tell us every day how much it meant for them to be able to stay in their homes and have it be a very peaceful experience.”
The company mostly serves dogs and cats, but has also been known to help out chickens, pigs, goats, rabbits and “pocket pets” like ferrets, guinea pigs, hamsters and rats. Gibson once euthanized a serval, a wild cat native to Africa. (Details, for the fellow morbidly curious: She says it was “sleek and kind of cheetahlike,” though smaller, around 30 pounds. Normally, it would have been dangerous to enter its pen, but the serval was very sick and docile. She had never touched one before, and never has again, and says it was a very cool experience.)
Another on-the-job surprise for Gibson: Many times she has gotten to an appointment only to realize she’s the last one to arrive for a party. Some clients use the actual euthanasia as an impromptu celebration of life with friends and family gathered to surround the pet as they say farewell.
Fadjo-Jackson’s dogs Iggy and Xen weren’t put down by Gibson, but she did meet Gibson, the company founder, afterward. One time Fadjo-Jackson, who’s a hairstylist, got a new client at her Pearl District salon, and they got to talking about work. Her client said she had founded a veterinary company called Compassionate Care, had she heard of it?
“I totally fan-girled out and said thank you for providing this service for the community.”