Being faced with the decision to put your dog or cat down (or “put to sleep”) is one of the most impossible decisions you will make. You may feel your pet is very sad and wished you didn’t end their life. You’ll find yourself bargaining with the vet, as if they have some secret power to stop death. All of a sudden, spending money is not an issue. You will find yourself easily spending money you don’t have to buy more time for your dog or cat, and, also bargaining with God.
Most, if not all, pet owners feel guilty after putting their dog or cat to sleep. If you decide to put your pet down / to sleep, feelings of guilt will haunt you in a big way. It’s hard for me to say this, but, don’t feel that way. I know it’s impossible to think otherwise. I was there. NOTHING could soothe the emptiness I felt coming home to a dog-less house, especially the first 3 days. It was torture. I had to leave the house and go for a walk.
That first day coming home from work without my dog there was torture. I couldn’t be in the house. I actually looked for her in her usual spots, hoping she would be there.
THE JOURNEY WITH ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS
In 2002 I came home to my dog-less apartment to a thought. “What if I got a dog?” My parents always had a dog and we grew up with them. I knew the responsibility in having a dog was huge, especially since I have a day job, as most people do. I wanted a smaller dog but not too small. The Wizard of Oz is one of my favorite movies and I loved the look and personality of cairn terriers.
Entering a pet store, my eyes locked with a cute little light brown and tan baby. Her ears perked up, as if she was waiting for me. I knew before I held her, she was the one. She was a cairn terrier of about 10 weeks old. I took her home that night and named her Roxy. This girl was such a sweet little babe and we did everything together. She slept in the bed with me on the 3rd night. Her first trip to the vet was a memorable one. As we sat in the waiting room, I heard a woman crying. Minutes passed and she left the vet clinic without her animal. I knew what happened…her dog had passed. Holding Roxy on my lap, I whispered in her ear, “I’m glad that’s not us.” I knew that day would come for us, but, dismissed the thought immediately.
A couple years later I added a 2nd cairn terrier, Jack, to our home. Roxy and Jack got along great. Roxy maintained the lead of the pack, next to me. Jack was 2 years younger than her. Having two dogs in the house is amazing and very loving, in case you are thinking about it….if you can afford the vet bills. I certainly don’t have the money but I made it work. It’s really not that bad and having two dogs is really something great.
Roxy loved laying by me, curling up right next to me on the couch most days. It was especially great when Jack curled up on the other side. You can’t buy happiness like that. As years went on, she stood with her front paws on the couch, unable to jump, with just a short little bark to say “daddy pick me up.”
Fast forward to 14 years of age, Roxy is slower. The evening of October 4th 2016, she went to bed and all was well. The next morning, before leaving for work, I let both dogs out, as I always do. Roxy stumbled and couldn’t keep her balanced. She fell on her side in the grass as if dizzy. I picked her up and she felt different to me. Her muscles seemed a bit tighter and she was clearly uncomfortable and not too functional. She was very lethargic. Holding her up, she started to slouch backwards, as if she was asleep. I gave her mouth to nose and that woke her up a bit. I knew I wasn’t going to work that day.
My wife said Roxy doesn’t look good at all and is probably dying. I shot that down right away with “are you nuts? She’s just sick or something.” The vet said they needed to do an x ray and would like to do blood work and some other scan as well. I thought maybe it was some sugar crash diabetic thing? The x ray showed an enlarged mass. It wasn’t weight she was gaining, it was her pancreas.
Surgery would be $2,000 with no guarantees. We took her home and I laid with her for the remainder of the day in her bed. I was in denial. She started to vomit and couldn’t hold food or water down, but was hungry. She wasn’t walking or responding, just laying and breathing fast and shallow. I took her to the vet again later that evening since she declined fast. My wife said her body is shutting down and that really upset me to hear.
The vet said she didn’t look good and if we went with surgery, there is a very good chance she could die on the table. If she survived, (maybe 20% chance) she may live another 9 months at best.
I’m a fighter and NEVER give up. I wanted Roxy with me always and asked if there were meds to ease her pain or make it better. Anything to lower the size of the inflamed organ. I was trying to buy time to research and make things right. Bargaining for her life made sense at the time. My wife said it’s time to let her go. I told her there is no way that’s going to happen. Roxy couldn’t move or stand. At that moment I knew.
The thought of not being with her anymore was not something I was ready for. She was with me through so much. The thing with death is, most of the time you’re not ready for it, and you go into shock and denial.
When the vet returned to the room I asked through tears what anesthesia is all about and what the process of putting your dog to sleep is. I asked if he would recommend it, given her state. A vet will rarely give their opinion but I couldn’t make the call. He said it is up to me but given the circumstances, it doesn’t look good for her. I agreed but found it near impossible to utter the words, ok, let’s do it. I didn’t want to let my best friend go forever.
Animals, in my book, are so much better than most people. They love you unconditionally and are perfect gifts from God. I couldn’t make this choice. Luckily, her state of being helped me with the decision. She couldn’t go to the washroom, couldn’t eat and nothing was going to save her. Looking back now, it was the correct choice. She was very sick and was obviously not going to be her normal self.
Some people have decided to put their dog to sleep when the dog is still pretty much coherent. I couldn’t do that. I would be saying…see, she’s fine…she sees and hears me. Sometimes though, be it cancer, bad arthritis or something else, the decision must be made.
The vet returned to take her to a back room for prepping, which is putting a cathedar in her leg. He said it was really difficult to get that going since her veins were very narrow. That comforted me a bit; another sign it was time. I would rather her pass away with me holding her than to get news that she did it alone while I was at work, or, alone on the operating table.
While this process was going on, I was in shock and just going through the motions, following the vet’s lead.
When I was ready, the vet injected her with a mild anesthetic to calm her, as if she was going to have surgery. They don’t do it all in one shot. Once she was relaxed and in a sleep state, he asked me if I was ready and I said “no. I will never be ready.” A few minutes later I said ok and he injected the dose of anesthetic to stop her heart. A few seconds later he said quietly, “she’s gone.”
At that moment I felt nothing. I wasn’t relieved and I wasn’t upset. I just felt nothing.
Typing this makes me tear up and it’s been 9 months already. She was gone and out of pain, but her body was still warm. A part of me, for an instant, felt ok, knowing she was out of pain until I would never see her again for as long as I walk this earth. Maybe I sound a little dramatic but this pain hurts and it hurts BAD. As my vet said later on, “I’ve seen some of most muscle-headed tough guys cry like a baby over the death of their dog.” A dog’s love is amazing.
I stayed with her as she laid on the table, for about 90 minutes, petting her and talking to her, crying as I did. The hardest part was making the unreal decision to do it. My wife was home with the kids since she didn’t want them seeing the act. They were there before the act, saying their goodbyes. I wore my sunglasses so they wouldn’t see me cry, which was useless, as I was pretty bad. I didn’t care who saw me. My kids, 4 and 8, were very good about it. My 4 year old gave out kleenex and my 8 year old cried much less than me.
When she became stiff and cool to the touch I decided it was time to leave. I was there for almost 3 hours. Arriving home, my youngest asked where Roxy was. A knife through the chest. I said, in heaven. My 2nd dog, Jack, greeted me, and looked for his sister, who wasn’t there. The next day, Jack continued to look for her.
I went to work the next day and cried the entire way to work and back. Arriving home, I couldn’t stay in the house. I found myself looking for her, hoping she would be in her favorite spots. I know how death works but when you’re involved, it doesn’t make sense. She wasn’t in her normal spot and that drove me mad. I had to leave that house. I couldn’t be there so I went for a walk, alone.
Mourning the loss of a loved one is really difficult because you can’t physically do anything to make it better. Only time will make it better. I understand that makes no sense, because you don’t want it better, you just want your dog / cat back.
The first few days were impossible to get through. A week felt like a month. A week later my wife brought the box home with her ashes. I have yet to open the box and see the urn I purchased that terrible night. I chose to have her cremated alone. Did you know that by default, animals are cremated together? If you choose to have ashes back, you’re getting all the ashes from all animals. Maybe to some it wouldn’t matter but it matters to me. I wanted only Roxy, so I paid the extra $75 for that. If the crematory was crooked, I could still very well have other dogs, but it’s peace of mind.
9 months later and I still have no idea what the urn looks like. I keep her favorite small stuff animal squirrel toy on my night stand. That was her baby and she loved it from the day I brought her home as a puppy.
I tell you this long story so you know you aren’t alone. It also helps me to purge some sadness. I was bargaining with no one, to bring her back. I felt bad for ending her life and the guilt was too much at times. The only thing that made me feel “ok” with the process was her final state of living. She was in no condition to do anything and her body was shutting down fast.
In the end, we all know that everything that lives, will die. That’s how life is. That’s how life works. It’s funny though, when we’re in that situation, it feels like we’re the only one ever in that situation. Right now there are millions of people at their jobs, going out for lunch, planning a party, doing whatever, while someone is in the hospital with their pet or spouse or mother or father, wondering what they should do given the terrible situation they face. Time seems to stop for those of us in terrible situations and the world becomes a very dark place. We may hate seeing people happy…I know I did. I wanted to be alone and didn’t want anyone to talk to me. Death is never easy to deal with. It is a part of life but I know it doesn’t seem like it while you are going through it. I’ve also had to deal with the loss of family and close friends. It really takes its toll on you.
Weeks later my phone rang at 2am. My brother was in the vet ER with his 16 year old maltese, who he has had since a puppy. He found himself bargaining as well, with the vet, as I listened in on speakerphone. He put his best friend to sleep that night as well. It was hard to hear him going through that pain.
At the time of writing this, Jack is still with us and is now 13. He has diabetes and has lost his vision because of it. He is on a strict diet and gets insulin shots twice a day. Jack also has cushings disease, which came about a few months before diabetes. That’s a monthly medication he needs to be on. All in all, he is doing great and romps like a puppy….but his blindness hurts me. I hate that he can’t see me and will never see me again. He gets extra love. I hold him and talk to him a lot. My dogs are my life and the only bad thing about living with them is facing that unfortunate day when everything comes crashing down at the end.
Time will heal, I promise.
UPDATE 3 YEARS LATER. I can’t believe it’s been 3 years since I wrote this. I made it about half way through the read of this post before I started to cry. I still miss her but daily life has returned with the typical stresses.
Losing your best friend, especially a dog or cat, is terrible. Since the writing of this post, my brother has lost his maltese, and a couple friends lost their dogs to old age.
Jack is still with us, although moving slower, and we now have a 2 year old German Shepherd, Leia. We got Leia when she was 8 weeks old. So I’m back to the beginning of the cycle. New puppy gets older and you cherish the time together until that dreaded day.
For me it may be a never-ending cycle. I don’t see my life without dogs, even though each time one passes, it gets harder for me to deal with.
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