Should You Go or Stay? How to Decide About Holiday Travel When You Have an Elderly or Chronically Ill Pet

When the invitation came, my first reaction wasn’t joy, it was anxiety. Who could give multiple dogs the right meds, twice a day? Would Murphy spiral without me there? And Pumpkin, sweet, stubborn Pumpkin, how would she eat without her usual routine (and my hundred little tricks)?

The holidays are ‘supposed’ to feel magical. But when you're caring for a sick or aging pet, that invitation can feel like a storm cloud rolling in threatening to upend your carefully balanced routine. I’ve been there, sitting with the guilt, the worry, and the kind of love that makes even small decisions feel enormous. I’ve written epic novels of care instructions, refreshed the pet cam a hundred times, and canceled plans when my gut screamed Don’t go.

If you’re trying to figure out what’s best for both you and your pet, here are some gentle, real-world questions to help you pause, reflect, and make a decision that feels grounded in your values and and in what truly matters to you.

How stable is your pet’s condition day to day?

This can tell you a lot about whether travel feels realistic or risky. If their health or behavior shifts often, some days eating well and walking normally, other days refusing food or seeming disoriented, that inconsistency can make it harder to predict how they’ll do while you’re gone. A pet who has steady routines, predictable energy levels, and minimal changes in appetite, mobility, or mood might be able to tolerate short separations better. But when those patterns start to fluctuate, it’s usually a sign their system is more fragile and depends heavily on familiar rhythms and your presence to stay grounded.

Do they have specific medications or conditions that require close monitoring?

The last time we went out of town, I remember feeling embarrassed by how long and detailed the list had become. Pumpkin needed two different eye drops, morning and evening medications, and her own special food. Murphy had a daily pill case, also with his own diet. If his separation anxiety seemed bad I had trazadone on hand for him to take if needed as well. Minnie was fighting an ear infection and needed pills three times a day, plus yet another type of food. If her allergies got worse I had pills for that. Thankfully, the other two dogs were more low maintenance, which at least made things a little easier.

This is not to mention the whole song and dance I had to describe just to make sure everyone actually ate. Minnie has to eat on a specific pillow, don’t ask me why, and if she refuses, you may have to hand feed her. Pumpkin, who has dementia and is blind, tends to forget she’s eating and will wander off mid-meal, so someone has to gently bring her back or she’ll miss it entirely. And of course, the other dogs can’t be trusted not to swoop in and “help” with her food, so you have to stand guard. If Pumpkin refuses to eat, she usually needs a quick trip outside before trying again.

By the time I finished explaining all that, I realized how much I was really asking of someone. It wasn’t just pet sitting it was running a small, high-needs care facility.

Is there a trusted caregiver who truly knows your pet’s routines and quirks?

Pets who need insulin, seizure meds, pain control, or even supplements to regulate appetite or anxiety often do best when handled by someone who knows their patterns. That kind of familiarity matters more than most people realize. We once had a sitter who didn’t really know our dogs’ personalities. When one of them didn’t come to greet her at the door, she assumed our dog was just being shy. In reality, she had injured her back and was struggling to walk. By the time we returned, her condition had worsened, and on Christmas Eve we found ourselves at an emergency vet, having to make the heartbreaking decision to euthanize her. It’s an experience that never really leaves you.

Since then, I’ve understood how crucial it is to have someone who truly knows what’s normal for your pet, their habits, moods, and subtle warning signs. The difference between “shy” and “something’s wrong” can change everything. It’s also worth asking your vet if they keep a list of recommended pet sitters or boarding options for pets with medical or behavioral needs. Many clinics have trusted names on hand people they know are experienced with giving medications or spotting early signs of trouble. Having a veterinary team familiar with your pet’s medical history can give you extra peace of mind if you do need to be away.

Can you take your pet with you?

It’s a natural thought, if leaving feels too hard, maybe bringing them along is the answer. But for some pets, travel itself can be more distressing than staying home. For us, that wasn’t an option. Pumpkin not only has dementia but is completely blind. Taking her to a new place, with strange smells and unpredictable sounds, would have caused so much confusion and anxiety.

And then there’s the dynamic with our other pets. Max tends to pick fights with other dogs and believes cats are for chasing, which rules out staying with family who have pets. Murphy struggles with separation anxiety, and in an unfamiliar environment, especially a hotel, he’d likely bark nonstop anytime we stepped away. In reality, they would’ve ended up crated most of the day, stressed and confused, which would’ve been harder on everyone.

If you’re in a similar situation, it’s okay to admit that bringing your pet along might not be what’s best for them. Sometimes the most loving choice is letting them stay in a familiar environment with someone who can keep their world as steady and predictable as possible.

Could you do a short trial run before committing to longer travel?

After the trauma of losing Janie at Christmas, we were terrified to travel again. The thought of leaving our pets brought up every fear from that experience, the what-ifs, the guilt, the ache of not being there when it mattered most. When we finally decided to try again, we took it slow. We found a sitter with a veterinary tech background and planned a short, 24-hour trip. Just one night away. We chose a destination only three hours from home so that if anything happened, we could turn around and be back the same day.

That small step helped us rebuild some trust in the process. It gave us a way to test how the dogs handled being in someone else’s care and how we handled being away. For you, it might look different. Maybe it’s not an overnight trip, maybe it’s just leaving the house for a few hours and seeing how your pet (and your nervous system) respond. A short trial run can give you valuable information about how your pet adjusts, how your sitter communicates, and how your own anxiety settles once you have real data instead of just worry. Sometimes it confirms that staying close is best. Other times, it shows that with the right support, small steps toward travel can feel doable again.

Check Your Own Emotional Readiness

Will you actually enjoy the trip?

Will you actually be able to enjoy the trip, or will your mind be at home the whole time? It’s worth being honest about how you tend to feel when you’re away. Some people can relax knowing their pet is in good hands, while others find themselves checking cameras every hour, texting the sitter for updates, or counting down the days until they’re back. If you’re already imagining yourself glued to your phone instead of being present where you are, that’s important information.

When I think about our own decision to travel, it wasn’t simple. You’ve seen the long list of care instructions I left behind, eye drops, pills, special foods, and backup plans for when someone inevitably refused to eat. It was a lot. But the reason we went was because there was a family wedding, and it mattered. It was a chance for my son to meet relatives he’d never met before, and for all of us to celebrate something joyful together. I also knew it would likely be an emotionally safe trip, I enjoy my in-laws (shocking, I know) and felt that being there would add something meaningful to our lives. We were able to make new memories and reconnect with family in a way that felt grounding.

If, on the other hand, it had been a high-conflict family event where tension runs high and everyone leaves drained, my choice may have been very different. The truth is, not every event or invitation deserves the same weight. Reflecting on your own values, what kind of connection, peace, or meaning you’re hoping to create can help you see whether the trip aligns with what you really need right now, or whether it’s just an old sense of obligation whispering that you “should” go.

Why does it feel so hard to leave?

It’s also worth naming that caring for pets looks different now than it did even a few years ago. Many of us work from home or have partners who do, which means our pets are used to near constant companionship. Since COVID, they’ve lived in a world where we’re almost always there and honestly, so have we. That kind of closeness changes everything. It’s no wonder so many pets now struggle with separation anxiety when we leave.

And the truth is, we’ve adapted to them just as much as they’ve adapted to us. Our days are built around their needs walks, feedings, medications, the quiet presence beside us while we work. For many of us, that rhythm has become a source of safety and comfort. Their routines help regulate us just as much as we regulate them. So when the idea of travel comes up, it’s not only our pets who feel unsettled, we do too. It’s not about being overly attached; it’s about how deeply our lives have become intertwined. (That’s a whole blog post in itself.)

Be honest with yourself: will the trip be harder on your pet, or on you? There’s no shame in admitting that sometimes it’s both. The goal isn’t to judge or overanalyze it, but to recognize what’s really driving the hesitation.

Which would you regret more?

Would you regret staying more than you’d regret going? That’s one of those gut check questions that can help you see what matters most. Regret has a way of showing us our priorities in disguise. Sometimes, the thought of missing a once in a lifetime moment, a wedding, a graduation, a reunion carries its own kind of ache. But if it’s the same holiday gathering you’ve been to every year, the one that usually leaves you more drained than fulfilled, it’s okay to acknowledge that too. You might decide that being there, even with some worry, is worth it or that this is the year to give yourself permission to skip the chaos and stay where you’re needed most.

Other times, the regret runs deeper when we picture not being home if something happened. For many pet parents, that quiet fear sits in the background, the “what if” that never fully goes away after you’ve experienced loss before. Both kinds of regret are valid, and neither makes you a bad person or a bad pet parent.

The key is being honest with yourself about which outcome you’d carry more peace with. If staying home would bring relief and a sense of alignment with your values, then it’s the right choice. If going would bring connection, meaning, or renewal, and you’ve set things up so your pet is in capable hands, that’s okay too. There’s no perfect answer here, just the one that lets you look back and feel, “That choice came from love, not guilt.”

What does your gut say?

It’s okay to trust your gut, especially if you’ve already lived through that worst-case scenario once. Experience teaches us things that logic alone can’t. If you’ve lost a pet while you were away or come home to find their condition suddenly worse, that kind of grief settles deep in your nervous system. Your hesitation now isn’t overreacting, it’s your body remembering what that loss felt like and trying to protect you from ever going through it again.

You’ve earned the right to listen to that instinct. If something in you says, This doesn’t feel right, you don’t owe anyone an elaborate explanation. You can simply say, “I need to stay close this year.” And if your gut tells you it’s okay to go, that you’ve put the right supports in place and you’ll be able to relax, trust that, too. There’s wisdom in both directions. The goal isn’t to erase fear, but to let experience guide you toward what feels most peaceful and aligned with how you love your pet.

How do I hold boundaries and managing guilt?

One of the hardest parts of choosing to stay home is handling the reactions from people who just don’t get it. You might hear, “Just board them!” or “They’ll be fine for a few days!” It’s okay to set the boundary and still feel some guilt. You might truly wish you could go. Maybe part of you misses the version of life where travel felt simple. That’s the grief talking, the loss of freedom that comes with deep caregiving. You can honor that sadness without letting it steer your choices. You can say, “I know you want me there, and I wish I could be. But right now, being home with them is what I need to do.” Sometimes, no matter how carefully you explain it, family or people who just aren’t “pet people” won’t understand. And that’s okay. But it helps to remember that there are people who do. There’s a whole community of pet parents who would completely understand if you missed a major event because you couldn’t travel. They get that staying home isn’t about being dramatic or overly attached, it’s about protecting someone vulnerable who depends on you.

If you told people you couldn’t leave your grandmother with dementia alone for the weekend, no one would question it. If your partner’s kidneys were failing, you wouldn’t get any pushback for staying close. For those of us whose pets are family, the caregiving load isn’t all that different. The love, the responsibility, and the emotional toll are real. You don’t owe anyone an apology for honoring that.

If you decide to stay…

If you decide to stay home this year, try creating new traditions that feel meaningful for both you and your pet. Maybe it’s a slow morning with your favorite music playing while they nap beside you, or a walk through the neighborhood lights before curling up on the couch together. You can still mark the season in ways that feel special, even if they look different from what everyone else is doing.

It’s also okay to grieve what you’re missing the noise, the laughter, the photos with family and still find comfort in the quiet presence you’re gaining. There’s something calming about being exactly where you’re needed, even if no one else sees it. Love often means doing the unglamorous thing: cleaning up messes, giving meds, or sitting in stillness beside a fragile body that once ran full speed to greet you. Those small moments of care may not look like much from the outside, but they hold a depth of love that no trip could replace.

Ask for Support

Sometimes you just need a space where someone gets how deeply you love your animals and how heavy the decisions around their care can feel. Therapy can be that space. Instead of pressure or judgment, you’ll find room to explore the mix of love, worry, and guilt that often comes with caring for an aging or ill pet.

If this blog resonated with you, I’d be glad to offer a free 20-minute consultation so you can see if I might be the right fit to support you through this season whether you’re navigating difficult choices, grief, or simply trying to care for your pet (and yourself) with a little more compassion.

Dr. Christine Henry is a licensed psychologist and an animal lover. She specializes in working with other “Pet People” who are working through past trauma, grief, religious trauma and are neurodivergent or highly sensitive people.