My mother had passed earlier that year. My father was still deeply grieving. I had moved back to stay with them both when mom was diagnosed with stage-four cancer and decided she wanted to have hospice in her own home. But I was working everyday, out of the house for most of the day. And my dad was getting lonely. At 80 years old, he had lost most of his friends and he needed someone or something more than a son to share dinner with.
“I’m going to buy another dog.” Growing up, my parents had miniature schnauzers. At eighty years old, my lifelong smoker, diabetic, hypertensive father was sharing with me that he needed a companion – someone to take care of and to pass his time with. “I’m happy to help, dad, but you realize that its quite possible your dog will outlive you. I need to travel for work and, while I’d love to have another dog, this could make things really complicated if you’re not here and able to take care of a dog.” Three days later, he found a year-old schnauzer, “Snowman,” put up for adoption by a truck driver who couldn’t properly care for him. I came home that evening to meet a little white ball of fur who had been added to our family.
A month passed. My father loved having Snowman and the dog reciprocated, staying by his side, rolling on his back in the sun, and generally being a loyal companion. “Dad,” I started one evening, “I understand why you wanted and needed Snowman, but I need you to plan for his future. God forbid anything should happen to you, I really need you to make some decisions. Who do you want to take care of him? Me, my brothers, or someone else? You bought pet insurance, but prices tend to be going up. Do you want to set aside part of your estate to take care of his costs?” He said he’d think about it.
The matter came to a head a month after when I came home to find Snowman racing around the house as if someone had slipped “Snow,” as I now called him, enough amphetamines to drug a horse. As it turned out, dad left a tray of chocolate chunk cookies on the coffee table. Snow helped himself. A trip to the Blue Pearl emergency vet, a very long night, and a few thousand dollars bill later, I brought a ragged-looking Snow home and had a sit-down with my dad. “First, dad, please. No chocolate around the dog. Second, what do we do if you’re not here to take care of him.”
That evening, my father asked me to draft a trust for Snowman, setting aside a portion of his estate based on the expected remaining lifespan of Snowman at the time he passed. With proper investment, it would provide enough to cover Snowman’s insurance (which ran $500 / month, ultimately), vet visits, medication, and a few incidental expenses. If there was anything left at the end, it would be passed on per his instructions for the balance of his estate.
As it turns out, my father passed in 2016. Snowman refused to leave my father’s bed except to go outside for two weeks. He barely ate. I quickly realized that Snowman was grieving about as much as I was. And while it took months to help him get through it, he became my loyal companion as well. Snowman made it through Christmas 2024. The funds my father left made sure that Snowman was taken care of exactly the way my father would have done himself had he survived. If you have pets of your own, don’t they deserve the same kind of loyalty they’ve given to you? Estate planning protects the ones we love – human and otherwise.
