Making the decision was agonizing. I felt like a murderer. I took my beloved Ra to the vet's knowing that I wouldn't be bringing him home. He got into the crate, trusting me. He talked the entire way to the vet's. I knew he would be stressed with all the sights and smells at the clinic. I had wanted to have him put to sleep at home when the time came, but his health didn't allow for that. I couldn't wait to research it. The medication to control his vomiting had stopped working, and the alternatives interfered with his diabetes. Both the vet and I felt he was in severe pain with his pancreatitis. We'd been trying to save him for months, but he kept deteriorating. I just couldn't put him through experimental therapy that would have traumatized him when he was so sick, especially since there was no guarantee it would work. He was 14 years old and his treatment had taken such a huge toll on his spirit. A new regime of untested drugs would have meant daily trips to the vet's for blood work. It would have meant surgery and other tests. It would have meant aggressive drugs that might make him sicker. So, I took him to the vet's that day a month ago, knowing what would happen.
The vet was nervous to bring up euthanasia. I was, too. We talked around it. I said I was afraid he was in pain, that he was suffering so much, and the frequent visits to the vet's when he was sick were traumatizing him. The vet agreed. He said, "Most owners are in denial about this stage. You're not." I nodded, fighting back the tears. "I don't want him to suffer anymore," I said. "I feel I'm being selfish trying to keep him here." The vet nodded. "We need to do it now."
He explained what would happen. I sobbed. He said they would give him a sedative to calm him, and that when the euthanasia drug was given, it would be over in seconds. He told me to take time to say goodbye. He asked me if I wanted to be there when he did it. I said I couldn't leave my boy alone to face this. I needed to be there for him. It went against everything I believed in. I'd been trying to save my Ra for so long. His whole life since he came home with me 14 years ago had been about keeping him well and happy....keeping him alive. And here I had made the decision to end his life.
I watched the vet tech give him the sedative. He complained, not liking the sensation. It was a plaintive growl that went on for about 15 minutes. (He never growled.) I could see him getting woozy. Finally he calmed, but he kept vocalizing his upset. I brushed him because he loved that. It helped calm him. I kissed him and told him I loved him over and over again. I told him he didn't need to be afraid. I was saying that for myself, of course. He didn't understand. Or maybe on some level he did. I was terrified he would feel pain, but the vet assured me he wouldn't. “It will be like going to sleep. We use this drug to anesthetize pets during surgery. We'll give him an overdose. His heart will stop immediately. He won't feel anything.”
I trusted the vet. He was very sincere.
I called my friend, who was an animal lover. I told her, "I can't do this alone. Will you come?" She got there as the sedative was taking effect. She held my hand, and cried softly. She pet Ra's head and told him he was a beautiful boy.
The vet tech came in with a pamphlet as the sedative was taking hold. She asked if I wanted him cremated. If I'd like to pick out an urn. I said I would, but I couldn't do it while he was still alive. I needed my focus to be on him. I told her to charge my credit card before the procedure because I would be a mess after. (I was already a mess.)
It seemed like forever, waiting, saying goodbye. The tech brought in the invoice. I looked at it, not really seeing anything. She said if I picked out the urn, I'd have it back faster. I thumbed through the pamphlet, mind in a haze. I saw a little black kitty curled up the way Ra liked to sleep. I said, "That one. It looks like my Ra." She keyed the cost in. It was over $500 for the procedure and the cremation. I didn't care. I felt it was a small price to pay for a beloved friend. I signed it and went back to Ra and pet his head. I could tell he knew something was up. So, I tried to comfort him as best I could. I brushed his coat and talked to him. I kept kissing him. I wanted to feel the life inside him while it was still there. I wanted to remember it. I took a video of him, which I haven't been able to watch yet.
The vet came back in. "Are you ready?"
"I'll never be ready. He's my family."
"I know. I can give you more time."
"No, I don't want him to suffer anymore."
The vet shaved his back leg, and reminded me that it happens very fast. He put in a catheter and flushed it out. Then he inserted the syringe that would end my Ra's life. The liquid looked yellow/green.
"Touch him, kiss him, talk to him," the vet said.
I was in shock. I pet Ra's head, sobbing.
"Talk to him," he said. "It's happening.
I was kissing Ra's head as he passed. I kept saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
"He's gone." the vet said. It had only been a couple of seconds. He listened with the stethoscope. "His heart has stopped."
“My poor boy,” I said, sobbing.
"You might see a twitch, or hear an exhalation of breath. It's a reflex."
I kept petting Ra, kissing his head. There was no twitch or breath. The vet said to take my time, and left the room.
My friend said, “Take some of his hair as a keepsake. I did that with my kitty.”
I picked up the hair that the vet had shaved off Ra's back leg and folded it into a tissue. It was shiny and black and soft.
I looked into Ra's eyes. They looked different, empty. He was gone. He looked so small and helpless. I just couldn't stop sobbing. I thought my heart would break.
I stayed with him for a long time. My friend stayed with me. We hugged and cried together.
Finally, it was time to go. I covered Ra up with his blanket to his neck, like I'd tucked him in many times. I kissed his head again and told him I loved him. Then I left.
I grieved my boy very hard. He was my constant companion for 14 years, a source of unconditional love. There will never be another like him.
I try not to think of him lying on that silver table, try not to think of his unseeing eyes. I try to remember him in his prime, when he was well.
I have his urn at home. I rub it occasionally. I leave treats at the base. I keep hoping they'll disappear. I tell him I hope he haunts me, because I can't imagine my life without him. But life goes on.
I am crying as I write this, but the pain is lessening day by day. I have my other cat Pi that I adopted at the same time I adopted Ra. She is a joy and a comfort. And a few weeks ago I adopted another kitten. Well, he adopted me. He fills my heart with such happiness, little Minchin, but there will always be a place in that heart that is just for Ra.
I wanted to write this out because the idea of euthanasia was very scary to me. And I did struggle with guilt for a long time over the decision. I do think it was the right thing to do. It was peaceful and fast. And now my boy is no longer suffering. And I am so glad that I was there when he passed, and he knew I was. I was afraid I couldn't do it, but I found the courage for him.
The vet was nervous to bring up euthanasia. I was, too. We talked around it. I said I was afraid he was in pain, that he was suffering so much, and the frequent visits to the vet's when he was sick were traumatizing him. The vet agreed. He said, "Most owners are in denial about this stage. You're not." I nodded, fighting back the tears. "I don't want him to suffer anymore," I said. "I feel I'm being selfish trying to keep him here." The vet nodded. "We need to do it now."
He explained what would happen. I sobbed. He said they would give him a sedative to calm him, and that when the euthanasia drug was given, it would be over in seconds. He told me to take time to say goodbye. He asked me if I wanted to be there when he did it. I said I couldn't leave my boy alone to face this. I needed to be there for him. It went against everything I believed in. I'd been trying to save my Ra for so long. His whole life since he came home with me 14 years ago had been about keeping him well and happy....keeping him alive. And here I had made the decision to end his life.
I watched the vet tech give him the sedative. He complained, not liking the sensation. It was a plaintive growl that went on for about 15 minutes. (He never growled.) I could see him getting woozy. Finally he calmed, but he kept vocalizing his upset. I brushed him because he loved that. It helped calm him. I kissed him and told him I loved him over and over again. I told him he didn't need to be afraid. I was saying that for myself, of course. He didn't understand. Or maybe on some level he did. I was terrified he would feel pain, but the vet assured me he wouldn't. “It will be like going to sleep. We use this drug to anesthetize pets during surgery. We'll give him an overdose. His heart will stop immediately. He won't feel anything.”
I trusted the vet. He was very sincere.
I called my friend, who was an animal lover. I told her, "I can't do this alone. Will you come?" She got there as the sedative was taking effect. She held my hand, and cried softly. She pet Ra's head and told him he was a beautiful boy.
The vet tech came in with a pamphlet as the sedative was taking hold. She asked if I wanted him cremated. If I'd like to pick out an urn. I said I would, but I couldn't do it while he was still alive. I needed my focus to be on him. I told her to charge my credit card before the procedure because I would be a mess after. (I was already a mess.)
It seemed like forever, waiting, saying goodbye. The tech brought in the invoice. I looked at it, not really seeing anything. She said if I picked out the urn, I'd have it back faster. I thumbed through the pamphlet, mind in a haze. I saw a little black kitty curled up the way Ra liked to sleep. I said, "That one. It looks like my Ra." She keyed the cost in. It was over $500 for the procedure and the cremation. I didn't care. I felt it was a small price to pay for a beloved friend. I signed it and went back to Ra and pet his head. I could tell he knew something was up. So, I tried to comfort him as best I could. I brushed his coat and talked to him. I kept kissing him. I wanted to feel the life inside him while it was still there. I wanted to remember it. I took a video of him, which I haven't been able to watch yet.
The vet came back in. "Are you ready?"
"I'll never be ready. He's my family."
"I know. I can give you more time."
"No, I don't want him to suffer anymore."
The vet shaved his back leg, and reminded me that it happens very fast. He put in a catheter and flushed it out. Then he inserted the syringe that would end my Ra's life. The liquid looked yellow/green.
"Touch him, kiss him, talk to him," the vet said.
I was in shock. I pet Ra's head, sobbing.
"Talk to him," he said. "It's happening.
I was kissing Ra's head as he passed. I kept saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
"He's gone." the vet said. It had only been a couple of seconds. He listened with the stethoscope. "His heart has stopped."
“My poor boy,” I said, sobbing.
"You might see a twitch, or hear an exhalation of breath. It's a reflex."
I kept petting Ra, kissing his head. There was no twitch or breath. The vet said to take my time, and left the room.
My friend said, “Take some of his hair as a keepsake. I did that with my kitty.”
I picked up the hair that the vet had shaved off Ra's back leg and folded it into a tissue. It was shiny and black and soft.
I looked into Ra's eyes. They looked different, empty. He was gone. He looked so small and helpless. I just couldn't stop sobbing. I thought my heart would break.
I stayed with him for a long time. My friend stayed with me. We hugged and cried together.
Finally, it was time to go. I covered Ra up with his blanket to his neck, like I'd tucked him in many times. I kissed his head again and told him I loved him. Then I left.
I grieved my boy very hard. He was my constant companion for 14 years, a source of unconditional love. There will never be another like him.
I try not to think of him lying on that silver table, try not to think of his unseeing eyes. I try to remember him in his prime, when he was well.
I have his urn at home. I rub it occasionally. I leave treats at the base. I keep hoping they'll disappear. I tell him I hope he haunts me, because I can't imagine my life without him. But life goes on.
I am crying as I write this, but the pain is lessening day by day. I have my other cat Pi that I adopted at the same time I adopted Ra. She is a joy and a comfort. And a few weeks ago I adopted another kitten. Well, he adopted me. He fills my heart with such happiness, little Minchin, but there will always be a place in that heart that is just for Ra.
I wanted to write this out because the idea of euthanasia was very scary to me. And I did struggle with guilt for a long time over the decision. I do think it was the right thing to do. It was peaceful and fast. And now my boy is no longer suffering. And I am so glad that I was there when he passed, and he knew I was. I was afraid I couldn't do it, but I found the courage for him.
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