We Euthanize Dying Animals, Don’t We?

Today I write about a subject that is difficult to tackle. When we end the suffering of an animal we call it euthanasia, but for people, the new term is “aid-in-dying” or what we formerly called “assisted suicide”.

Memory of My Last Kitty Kiss

This is not an easy subject for me to write about. As one industry expert comes right out to say, “aid-in-dying (assisted suicide) is the third rail – don’t touch it,” but if there is one thing I have learned in my long life thus far, it’s that what people preach is not always what they practice. We need to talk about aid-in-dying. Globally, we are struggling with compassion and suffering.

Two days ago I held my dying kitty Storm in my arms while the vet gave him a sedative and then applied euthanasia. My boy Storm was 17 years and 8 months old. I had found him dumped on a country road at 6 weeks old in starving condition. To say he has been a huge part of my life is an understatement, especially given that he came to me when the door to my having children was closing.

In the past 2 weeks many of his organs were failing. I knew he was dying, but it was a shock when the vet made it clear (further expressed with wide surprise in his eyes) that Storm was suffering. The vet strongly suggested I put him to sleep on the spot. After a walk to the car and back, I did. But not without a goodbye, kisses and lots of expressions of my love.

“They shoot horses don’t they?”

Happy Days With Kitty Friend

This all took place while in the midst of tears, deep grieving, despair and immense love. I became daunted by the disparity between how we handle the suffering of a person versus that of an animal. I realize Storm’s condition slowly diminished his ability to eat. It dawned on me my grandmother actually starved to death. Diagnosed with stomach cancer, she elected to not have surgery and instead died at home. Storm was spared starvation while in the end my grandmother slid into a coma. My mother, who had cared for her the last 3 months, said to me while grief stricken “I would never ask anyone to do that for me.”

I become overwhelmed with both my grief and our societal disparity. It’s over 20 years later and I suddenly fully grasp the depth of my grandmother’s (and mother’s) pain and my heart bleeds for her. I’m not sure who I’m bleeding for more, my grandmother who suffered or my mother who remains to live with the suffering. Death should be a lovely profound door to exit through.

Was it easy to hold Storm while the vet inserted the euthanasia needle? No, not at all. All I could think was, how could I possibly ever do this for my parents? Life is so unbearably complex and difficult.

When I had asked the vet about Storm’s various visible failings, the vet answers “unspecified.” He said this word bluntly a number of times. I came to understand, as doctors more frequently offer a non-answer to patients, that we are getting more culturally comfortable in gray areas. Aid-in-dying is a huge gray area too.

As I write this, tears roll down my cheeks for my loss, and I weep also for the lack of global compassion that exists. Life is difficult indeed.

I just can’t let go yet, so I write this for Storm as my catharsis.

Read more:

• The story of my grandmother’s death.
• An interview on what is aid-in-dying?