Tool

Quality of Life Scale for Dogs and Cats: The Villalobos HHHHHMM Scoresheet

Seven dimensions, each zero to ten. Run it weekly, save the total, bring it to the vet. The number is a conversation, not a verdict.

Go to the scale

It's Saturday morning. The dog's asleep on the rug by the back door, which is where he sleeps now. You've got a coffee, a piece of paper, and a printout of seven letters your vet sent home last Tuesday: H, H, H, H, H, M, M. The paper is faintly coffee-stained from sitting on the counter all week. You're about to score your pet's quality of life for the first time, and you don't know what the number is going to do to you.

The scoresheet in front of you is the Villalobos scale. Dr. Alice Villalobos, a veterinary oncologist in Southern California, developed it in the early 2000s as the central tool of what she named Pawspice, a hospice-oriented model of care for pets with life-limiting illness. She published it in her book Canine and Feline Geriatric Oncology: Honoring the Human-Animal Bond in 2007, and it's now taught inside the veterinary hospice and palliative-care curriculum administered by the International Association for Animal Hospice and Palliative Care, which you'll see written as IAAHPC once you start reading further. The scale is her work. Any version you see in a clinic, a pamphlet, or a tool like this one traces back to that source.

One thing to get straight before you pick up the pen. The scale is a structured lens for a conversation you're already having with yourself about your pet's last stretch. It doesn't make the decision. The total at the bottom of the sheet isn't a line the pet crosses when the number drops. It's a line you use to see the stretch clearly, so you can talk about what you're seeing with the vet who knows your pet. Nothing you're about to score tells you what to do. What it tells you is what you're looking at.

What the scale is, in plain terms

Seven dimensions, each scored from zero to ten. The letters stand for Hurt, Hunger, Hydration, Hygiene, Happiness, Mobility, and More good days than bad. The total runs from zero to seventy. Dr. Villalobos's published scale reads a total over 35 as acceptable quality of life to continue hospice care. At 35 or below, the conversation with your vet shifts from optimization to orientation: are we seeing the same slope, and what do we do about it.

The seven dimensions were chosen because they cover the day-to-day experience of being a pet. Hurt and Mobility are the body. Hunger, Hydration, and Hygiene are the routines of being a body. Happiness is the relational dimension, whether the pet is still present with the people and animals they love. And the last M, More good days than bad, is the honest question: across the week, how much of the pet's life feels like a life they're living, not one they're enduring.

The scale doesn't tell you what a three on Hurt means for your specific pet. That's your job and your vet's. What the scale gives you is a repeatable structure, so the score you write down this Saturday compares cleanly with the score you write down next Saturday. Trend beats snapshot. A pet who's been holding at 50 for three months and drops to 42 over two weeks tells you something that the 42 alone never will.

Why Dr. Villalobos developed this, and what it's for

Dr. Villalobos has been practicing veterinary oncology for over four decades, and the scale emerged from her clinical observation that owners of pets with advanced cancer or geriatric disease were consistently making end-of-life decisions without a structured way to observe their pet's condition between visits. She has written that the scoresheet was designed to reduce the experience of a family making the call on a single bad day, which is the worst day to make it. A weekly structured score gives a family months of orientation before the hard conversation becomes unavoidable. That's the whole thesis.

The scale is taught inside clinical curricula alongside the American Animal Hospital Association's end-of-life care guidelines, which frame the veterinary team's role as supporting the owner's decision rather than owning it. The AAHA guidelines walk through the dimensions of the quality-of-life conversation: pain, function, appetite, dignity, and the family's capacity for caregiving. The Villalobos scale is the scoring instrument that makes that conversation specific. The AVMA's euthanasia guidelines, in turn, address the clinical procedure itself and the standards the profession holds for how it's performed. These three sources together (Villalobos's scale, AAHA's end-of-life care framework, and AVMA's euthanasia guidelines) are the current US veterinary-profession consensus on how the decision gets supported.

The scale is widely used by hospice-oriented practices, including the mobile vets who do at-home euthanasia and the IAAHPC-credentialed hospice teams. The scale isn't a late intervention. Started at a chronic-care recheck, well before the hard conversation, it gives a family the months of orientation it was designed for.

How clinicians actually use it

The published scale is written for the family to score at home, between visits. Scored weekly from the week of the diagnosis, or the week the conversation about hospice begins, the sheets come to each recheck and sit next to the physical exam and the labs. A drop across two or three weeks is the kind of change worth raising: which dimensions are driving it, which could respond to a change in medication or routine, and which suggest the disease is moving past the comfort plan in place.

The clinician's read of the scale may not match the family's. A physical exam can catch a skin-turgor change that water-bowl behavior at home doesn't show, so a vet may score hydration lower than you did. Mobility works the same way. A dog who's no longer climbing the stairs to bed is easy to accommodate around, and a family's mobility score can drift higher than the dog's actual function. None of this is a critique of the family's observation. It's the exchange the scale is designed to produce.

What the score means, in context

The published interpretation is short. A total over 35 represents acceptable quality of life to continue hospice care. At 35 or below, the conversation shifts. That threshold isn't really a threshold. It's a starting line for a clinical conversation that's already in progress by the time the score drops that low. The 35 isn't an automatic trigger. It's where the conversation becomes specific.

Two patterns matter more than the total. The first is the trend. A stable 38 that holds for three months is a different picture than a 48 that drops to 38 in four weeks. Both totals are the same; the stretches look nothing alike. The second is dimension asymmetry. A total of 40 composed of a 2 on Hurt and a 9 on Happiness tells you something specific: pain isn't controlled, and the pet's relational life is intact, which is a fixable picture. A total of 40 composed of a 9 on Hurt and a 2 on Happiness tells you something different: the pet's body feels fine and their interior has gone quiet. The second picture is often harder for a clinician to address, and it's where the hardest conversations live.

Read each dimension. Don't only read the total. Reading only the total is the mistake this tool's interpretation text is written to prevent.

How to run it at home

Once a week. Same day, same time, same person when you can. Saturday morning is a common choice because it sits outside the workweek and gives the scorer room to think. The score takes about ten minutes if you're honest with yourself, about five if you already know what you're seeing. Don't try to score on a bad day or right after a rough night. The week is the unit, not the moment.

Run the scoresheet with the person in the household who knows the pet best, even when that's not the person reading this page. Scoring alongside a spouse, a grown child, or a long-term pet sitter gives you a second read, and the scorer isn't carrying the observation alone. A second pair of eyes can catch the week you'd stopped seeing clearly. If disagreement turns up, write down both scores and bring both to the vet. The gap is information.

When you finish, write the date and the total somewhere you'll see it next week. A paper notebook works well. A pinned note on your phone works. An email to yourself works. The tool below will format the scoresheet for copy-paste into any of those surfaces.

The scoresheet

Run the scale

Tool

The Villalobos HHHHHMM scoresheet

Seven dimensions, each scored zero to ten, where ten is best. Every line starts unscored. Tap or drag each one to the number that matches this week. The total counts only what you have scored, and its reading appears once all seven are done.

How well is pain being managed. Higher is better. A dog or cat whose pain is controlled by medication scores higher than one who is flinching, panting at rest, or reluctant to be touched.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet who cries when lifted, holds a guarded posture, or whose current medication is not holding pain.
  • A 7 is a pet who moves without apparent discomfort and whose pain plan, if there is one, is working.

Interest in food and ability to eat enough. Appetite, not nutrition numbers. Include syringe feeding or feeding-tube intake if that is part of your plan.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet who walks away from a favorite food and who is losing weight across the week.
  • A 7 is a pet eating most meals voluntarily, even if the portion is smaller than it used to be.

Drinking, fluid intake, and any subcutaneous fluids you give at home. The goal is adequate hydration, not a specific volume. Skin tent and gum moisture are the at-home signals your vet will ask about.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet with tacky gums, a slow skin tent, or who no longer seeks out water.
  • A 7 is a pet drinking on their own or meeting hydration through a working sub-Q schedule.

Grooming, cleanliness, and ability to stay clean of urine and feces. Matted fur, pressure sores, and repeated soiling drop this score. Whether you can bathe and keep the coat reasonable matters here.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet who cannot reach themselves to groom and who is soiling regularly between cleanings.
  • A 7 is a pet either grooming themselves or being kept clean by the family without distress.

Interest, interaction, and response to the people and animals they love. Tail wag, purr, eye contact on their name. The point is whether they are still present with you, not whether they are the same as five years ago.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet who has stopped responding to their name, who withdraws from family, or whose behavior has changed in ways that read as distress.
  • A 7 is a pet who still recognizes and engages, even if the engagement is quieter or shorter than before.

Ability to stand up, walk to the water bowl, reach the litter box or yard. Assistive aids (ramps, harnesses, carts) count. The question is whether they can do what they need to do, not whether they can run a trail.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is a pet who cannot rise without help or who falls repeatedly on the way to water or the door.
  • A 7 is a pet who gets around the house on their own, with or without a ramp.

Pull back and score the week. Not today, not this morning. Across the last seven days, how many were good. A day is good if the pet was comfortable, ate, and had some moment of recognition or engagement.

Not scored yet. Tap a point on the line or drag the dot to score it.

  • A 3 is three bad days for every good one, or a week with no clearly good day.
  • A 7 is five or more good days out of seven, with the bad days still bearable.
Total
0 of 7 scored

The total out of 70, and how the published scale reads it, appear once all seven are scored.

Score all seven to copy or email the sheet. Nothing on this page is saved or sent until you copy or email it.

What to do with the number

The number matters less than the conversation it enables. Once you have a score, the move is to put it somewhere you'll see it and then bring it to your vet. That's the whole operational instruction. If the total is lower than the prior week, the next call is a phone call. If one dimension fell while the others held, the next call is the same phone call. If the total is stable and the dimensions look the same as last week, save the sheet and wait until the next scheduled recheck.

When you bring the scoresheets to your vet, bring at least three weeks' worth. A single score is a snapshot; three weeks is a trend. A clinician reading three scoresheets stacked on top of each other sees the slope. A clinician reading one sees a number. The information content isn't close.

The conversation the scale enables usually runs in one of three directions. The first is optimization: the scale has surfaced a dimension that's fixable, and the clinician adjusts pain control, nutrition, or hydration to lift it. The second is orientation: the scale shows a shift the clinical picture confirms, and the vet and the family recalibrate the comfort plan. The third is preparation: the trend is directional and the conversation about hospice, palliative care, or in-home end-of-life care becomes concrete. All three are correct uses of the instrument.

How the scale can fail you

The most common failure is symmetric scoring that masks directional decline. A pet whose Hurt improves by two and whose Happiness falls by two holds a stable total while the stretch shifts from a body problem to an interior problem. Totals are lossy. If you only ever read the total, you will miss the shift. This is why the tool above names the lowest-scoring dimension next to the total.

The second failure is a family scoring only on bad days. The scale is a weekly instrument. Scoring in a trough reads the trough as the new normal, and the number drops in a way the underlying picture doesn't support. Pick a day and keep it.

The third failure is species-specific. Cats mask hurt more effectively than dogs, and a family running the scale on a cat in late-stage kidney or cardiac disease often over-scores Hurt. The Feline Grimace Scale, validated in peer-reviewed veterinary work, is a useful companion tool for the cat-specific hurt score. The Glasgow Composite Measure Pain Scale is the canine parallel. Either tool adds precision to the Hurt dimension of the Villalobos scale and is worth running the first time you score a pet in decline.

The fourth failure is treating the score as the decision. The score is never the decision. The decision is a conversation between a family and a clinician who knows the pet. The score is the structured input to that conversation. The distinction matters every time.

The Veta page on the quality-of-life conversation, linked at the quality-of-life framework page, covers the wider territory: what the conversation looks like inside a family, the euthanasia conversation itself, at-home versus in-clinic options, how to prepare the household, how grief runs in the weeks that follow. The tool on this page is the scoring instrument; the framework page is the stretch around it. If you have the tool and want the wider picture, that page is where to read next. If you have the framework and need the tool, you're already on the right page.

The page on chronic-condition playbooks covers the weekly routines that precede this scale for many families. Running the Villalobos scale alongside a working chronic-care routine (daily observation log, weekly weigh-in, medication timing) is often the right operating system for a pet in the last year or two of life. The reason this tool sits inside Veta's broader framework is that the scale is most useful when it's not used alone.

Questions families ask when they first run the scale

What is the HHHHHMM scale, exactly?
The HHHHHMM scale is a seven-dimension quality-of-life scoresheet developed by Dr. Alice Villalobos, a veterinary oncologist and pioneer of what she named Pawspice, a hospice-oriented approach to end-of-life care for pets. It first appeared in her 2004 work and was later published in her book Canine and Feline Geriatric Oncology: Honoring the Human-Animal Bond. The seven letters stand for Hurt, Hunger, Hydration, Hygiene, Happiness, Mobility, and More good days than bad. Each dimension gets a score from zero to ten. The total runs zero to seventy. The scale isn't a decision tree; it's a lens for the conversation between a family and their vet.
How is the score supposed to be interpreted?
Dr. Villalobos's published scale reads a total over 35 as acceptable quality of life to continue hospice care. At 35 or below, the useful next step is a direct conversation with your vet about whether the dimensions pulling the score down are fixable, or whether you and the clinic are seeing the same directional decline. That line is a guideline, not a verdict. Scores are most informative as a weekly trend line. A pet who has been holding at 50 and drops to 40 over two weeks tells you more than a single reading at 40 does.
Can I use this scoresheet in place of a vet visit?
No, and nobody in the veterinary hospice community treats it that way. The scoresheet is designed to help you see the pattern clearly and hand a structured summary to a clinician who knows your pet. The clinician reads it alongside the exam, the labs, and the history. The International Association for Animal Hospice and Palliative Care (iaahpc.org) positions quality-of-life assessment as one input among many, and the American Animal Hospital Association's end-of-life care guidelines describe the clinician's role as supporting the owner's decision rather than owning it. You bring the sheet; they bring everything else.
Why does this scale keep grief at arm's length?
Because grief doesn't fit in a scoresheet, and pretending it does is a category error. The seven dimensions measure the pet. They don't measure the family. Your grief is already present on the weeks you choose to score. That's information too, but it belongs in a different conversation. Running this scale alongside a grief counselor or pet-loss support resource isn't an overreaction. The scoring and the grief are two different jobs, and both deserve support. The Association for Pet Loss and Bereavement and university veterinary social-work programs both maintain resources for this.
How often should I score my pet's quality of life?
Weekly works well for a pet in chronic care or late-stage disease. Same day of the week, same rough time of day, same person doing the scoring when possible. A weekly score turns a slow shift into a trend you can see, instead of something you only notice on a single bad day. If the pet is stable, monthly may be enough. If the pet is actively declining, daily scoring can feel compulsive and adds little over the weekly trend line. Ask your vet which cadence they want for your pet.
When should I stop using the scale?
Two moments. The first is when the score is consistently high enough and stable enough that scoring feels like a ritual you've outgrown; some families drop the weekly score when a pet has been in the 55-to-70 range for three months with no trend. The second is when a decision has been made. Once you and your vet have agreed on a palliative plan or a hospice window, the scoresheet has done its job; what follows is comfort care, presence, and the specific things your vet has told you to watch for. Continuing to score a pet whose path is clear can add distance where closeness is called for.
Can I run this in the exam room with the vet?
Yes, and it's one of the most productive ways to use it. Bring the printed or emailed scoresheet to the recheck appointment and ask your vet to walk through the dimensions one by one. A clinician's read of your hydration score may differ from yours after they examine gums and skin turgor; their read of mobility may factor in a joint finding the at-home observation missed. The exchange moves the visit from lab values to lived experience. If your clinic uses AAHA's end-of-life guidelines, your vet is already trained to have this conversation.
What are the scale's known limitations?
Symmetric scoring can hide directional decline. A pet whose hurt improves from eight to six while happiness falls from three to five holds a stable total while the weeks shift underneath. Read each dimension individually, not just the total. A second limitation: the scale was designed for geriatric and end-stage disease, and its dimensions don't always translate cleanly to acute or episodic conditions. A third: cultural and species-specific expressions of pain aren't evenly weighted. Cats in particular disguise pain in ways dogs don't, and the Feline Grimace Scale, validated in peer-reviewed work, is a useful companion.
Does this scale work the same way for dogs and cats?
Seven dimensions apply to both, and Villalobos developed the scale for both species. The interpretation differs slightly. Cats mask hurt more effectively than dogs, so the hurt score for a cat often needs structured help like the Feline Grimace Scale to land accurately; the Glasgow Composite Measure Pain Scale is the canine parallel. Hygiene is frequently the dimension that drops first in cats with chronic disease, because grooming is one of the first behaviors they abandon. Happiness is often what drops first in dogs, because loss of interest in greeting the family is easier to observe.
What should I do with the score after I run it?
Write it down somewhere you'll see it next week. A dated notebook, a pinned note on your phone, or an email you send yourself works fine. If the total is lower than the prior week, or one dimension fell while the others held, the next call is a conversation with your vet. If the total is 35 or below, the line Villalobos published, say so on that call. Bring the last three scoresheets to the recheck. If you're working with a mobile hospice vet, send the scoresheets ahead of the visit so the trend is in hand before they arrive.
The Veta app

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Sources
  1. Villalobos A., Kaplan L. Canine and Feline Geriatric Oncology: Honoring the Human-Animal Bond, Wiley-Blackwell 2007. HHHHHMM Quality-of-Life Scale, chapter at CABI DOI 10.5555/20083239129. doi.org.
  2. International Association for Animal Hospice and Palliative Care (IAAHPC). Professional quality-of-life and hospice care resources. iaahpc.org.
  3. American Animal Hospital Association (AAHA) / International Association for Animal Hospice and Palliative Care. 2016 AAHA/IAAHPC End-of-Life Care Guidelines. aaha.org.
  4. American Veterinary Medical Association (AVMA). Guidelines for the Euthanasia of Animals, 2020 edition. avma.org.
  5. Reid, J. et al. Development of the short-form Glasgow Composite Measure Pain Scale (CMPS-SF) and derivation of an analgesic intervention score. Animal Welfare (2007). cambridge.org.
  6. Evangelista, M. C. et al. (2019). Facial expressions of pain in cats: the development and validation of a Feline Grimace Scale. Scientific Reports 9, 19128. nature.com.