I euthanized my cat two days ago. She was 17.5 years old and considering all the medical problems she’s had since the day we got her, it’s a miracle she even made it this far (our other cat before her died at 14 of liver disease). My beloved kitty Shania was a survivor. She'd gone through three different households until she ended up at ours - at that point she had an eye and respiratory infection from two of the heavy smokers who were temporarily looking after her until they could find her a permanent home. So she ended up at our house. How could we refuse? At that point the 3rd person was going to take her back to the shelter who would surely label her too much trouble and put her down. So we saved her life. And for the last 17 years she has been OUR life. She brought so much joy and happiness to us. She was a hyper and playful little kitty who would always cheer me up whenever I was having a bad day.
But this kitty had a lot of medical problems from the start. She smelled like a damn ashtray when we got her so right away we had to treat an eye and a respiratory infection. Then a few years later she developed asthma so we started taking her for quarterly steroid shots. We knew the risks of that but were willing to deal with them, as long as she could keep living a productive and good life. Then she went blind (from the prolonged use of the steroids) and it was sort of all downhill from there. The blindness caused her already elevated separation anxiety to increase which led to heart problems (cardiomyopathy), and high blood pressure so now we had THREE medications to give her every day. In the last two years it just seemed like all we were doing was dragging her around to these stupid expensive vets, getting poked and prodded, all the stressful rides in the carrier back and forth and I think the fight just started slowly going out of her. Two weeks ago everything just started to go downhill SO fast. She wouldn't eat, she was drinking water excessively, losing weight, becoming lethargic and listless. She developed arthritis so it was harder for her to get around. But like the brave and determined little darling she was, she did her best to cope but it was obvious that this cat's quality of life was just sucking SO hard and we began to discuss putting her down, out of her misery. This poor cat had been through enough. We were tired of her being treated like a guinea pig and sick of paying for all these bullshit tests. She actually had a follow-up visit with the eye doctor the day after we put her down but we were DONE with this bullshit, putting her under all this unnecessary stress. It was time to just let her be, let her live her last few days at home with us who loved her and doted on her.
She was our entire world. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make and feelings of guilt and remorse were just overwhelming me because for the the last year she started yowling all the time - mostly for attention because of her anxiety, she really hated being alone. It got to the point where my mom would have to "babysit" her if I was gonna be out for more than a few hours. I never had kids because I like to be independent and it was the kind of responsibility I never wanted, yet here I was now with this "special needs" kitty making so many demands on my time and I imagine this is what its like to have a child. It was just constant vaccuming of cat litter, cat hair everywhere, my eyes getting irritated from all of that, how she ate SO much and would wake me up all the time wanting to be fed (and yet she never gained weight, she was always 8 pounds give or take a few ounces). Sometimes I'd yell at her when she'd start yowling - mostly when I was in the room - and she would stop, but most of the time I'd just call her over and she'd come (which is why I know she was just doing it for attention, or rather, wanted to make sure I was there). The guilt of that is really what is consuming me.
For the last 5 of her days I was trying to spend as much one-on-one time with her as I could, knowing the clock was ticking. Every day I cried, and she was still here! I could only imagine how much worse my grief would be once we actually euthanized her. I found a place that does in-home euthanasia (petlossathome.com) - which I never even knew was an option but once I found it, I jumped right on it and made the call. And then we waited the 2 days until the scheduled time and place (our house), giving Shania more attention than she ever had before - and ironically, a few times she seemed annoyed that we kept trying to pet her (LOL!). The woman arrived at our house and was SO sweet, caring and understanding. She sat with us and made some small talk about animals and what she does, and how she feels about it. She said it’s not an easy job to do and sometimes it gets her emotional too, but she feels that she is offering a service to devastated pet owners who hate the idea of euthanizing their animals on a cold metal table in a depressing vet office. So she goes to their homes with her equipment and makes the process easy and less stressful than it has to be.
I picked up Shania in my arms who started to squirm (as I knew she would, she was all curled up in her favorite corner and now here I was disturbing her, but she never really liked being picked up in general) and then I put her down on her favorite spot on the bed and she finally stretched out and relaxed as I kept petting her and talking to her. Shania barely flinched when the sedation needle went in and within 5 minutes was in a total zen state of calmness. I’ve never seen her so calm and that brought me a bit of comfort knowing she was no longer stressed out and was just high as a kite without a care in the world. The whole time I was petting her and talking to her and then when her heartbeat had slowed down , she was ready for the euthanasia needle. The vet let us have a few more minutes with her, petting her, talking to her, kissing her and I even took some photos - mostly because it was the most calm I’d ever seen her (so it would be the last time for that). After letting her just lay there all gelled out for about 10 minutes, she did the death injection. The cat did not feel a thing. Then we waited as it took affect and I couldn’t even tell at that point when it did.
She still looked like our Shania - her eyes still half open (which they often were even when she as sleeping, because of the blindness her pupils were ALWAYS dilated so she still looked the same to me). She still FELT the same, her fur still so silky soft (the vet was amazed at how soft she was - I’m getting some fur clippings too, along with the special urn I picked that will have a photo of her on it, and an engraved brass plaque, plus a keepsake paw print stone with her name on it, and a keychain with some of the ashes that I can keep with me always). I managed to hold my emotions in until it started hitting me that even though she LOOKED the same - she looked just like she usually did when she’d sprawl out on the bed and nap - she was in fact, gone. It really looked like she was still napping. But of course the reality set in after a while and that’s when I started to lose it. I was crying, and saying loving words to her, saying how much I’m gonna miss her, kissing her on the top of her head.
We had towels, a trashbag and a blanket ready since we were told sometimes after death the bladder releases whatever’s left in it and also sometimes there is defecation. But Shania had not eaten anything in about 4 or 5 days, though she was drinking water like crazy. And yet, no spillage. After hovering around her limp and lifeless body for a few minutes, I finally gave the go ahead that it was OK to put her in the box. I had a square cardboard box ready that she used to love lounging in so I thought that was the best way to send her off. The vet wrapped her up in the pastel purple towel we gave her and placed her gently into the box, then covered it with the pink blanket we kept in her carrier when we had to take her to the vet. I was playing this really beautiful soothing angelic music during the whole time and it was lovely but SAD, so as soon as she was taken away, I had to turn it off after I came back up to my room and looked around as the reality what just happened finally hit me. I was sitting in the same spot where my beloved baby was and just sat there bawling my eyes out. My Goddess, the overwhelming grief and sorrow set off the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. My head was hurting so I took so a Klonipin praying it wouldn’t take too long to kick in. My heart is broken. My eyes were bloodshot and tears stuck to my face.
I haven’t moved any of her things out - the litterbox, the food and water dishes, her kitty condo, the table where I keep all the cat food (on top and under it), the paper bag she loved to play in, the other paper bag inside another cardboard box she loved to play in, some of the newspapers she liked to shred - there’s just still so much in here that reminds me of her and eventually I’ll remove it all but for now, I just feel like sitting here feeling like she’s not really gone. I don’t think it’s REALLY hit yet. She doesn’t feel gone. She didn’t even look dead when she left. She looked like she was taking another one of her long naps so that kind of messes with your head. So I guess I’m going through the denial phase of 5 Stages of Grief at the moment. It’s the only way I am able to even sit here and articulate this whole experience to share it with the world. I only hope some other pet owners read this and feel comforted knowing they’re not the only ones feeling this excruciatingly painful grief and guilt.
And oh that horrible guilt I feel for all the times when I was kind of mean to her with the yowling. How can I ever forgive myself? Am I having some kind of care-giver's remorse too? I mean, I feel horrible for even THINKING about how annoying she was becoming and getting so tired of the constant cleaning routine. My only solace is knowing that I put her down in the most gentle way possible - euthanized at HOME.
Petlossathome.com is a wonderful resource, for anyone considering the option. I didn't even KNOW it was an option until I started researching about euthanasia. You can put in your zip code to find out if they have a service in your area since they are national. Dr. Christina Kincade - who services Massachusetts and Rhode Island - is the one who came to us and I cannot say enough great things about her. She was SO nice, caring, compassionate, understanding and was so gentle with my fur baby. She made the experience less painful than I thought it would be so if you are thinking about putting your own pet down in the privacy of your own home -which I highly recommend because it’s less stressful for the animal and my own cat is proof. It’s a little more expensive than a doctor’s office but it was worth every penny. The total all-inclusive cost (the drive time, the gas for the car, the visit, the medical supplies, removal of the body, delivery of the body to the pet crematorium, the cremation, a ceramic paw keepsake, the keychain, the urn, the engraving for the urn) was $840. She works with a pet crematory service in the local area so all that business is taken care of. Now I am just waiting for the urn with the ashes and everything to be shipped back to me.
Now my question is - am I the only one who feels this guilt because I sort of started taking her presence for granted? Is this normal? Sometimes I feel like I failed this cat but my friends and family insist that I shouldn't because she would not have even lived to be 17 were it not for all the care and attention I took for her, especially since she had so many medical problems. Sorry this took so long. I don't know how I could've really condensed it further.
Recent photo of my baby:
But this kitty had a lot of medical problems from the start. She smelled like a damn ashtray when we got her so right away we had to treat an eye and a respiratory infection. Then a few years later she developed asthma so we started taking her for quarterly steroid shots. We knew the risks of that but were willing to deal with them, as long as she could keep living a productive and good life. Then she went blind (from the prolonged use of the steroids) and it was sort of all downhill from there. The blindness caused her already elevated separation anxiety to increase which led to heart problems (cardiomyopathy), and high blood pressure so now we had THREE medications to give her every day. In the last two years it just seemed like all we were doing was dragging her around to these stupid expensive vets, getting poked and prodded, all the stressful rides in the carrier back and forth and I think the fight just started slowly going out of her. Two weeks ago everything just started to go downhill SO fast. She wouldn't eat, she was drinking water excessively, losing weight, becoming lethargic and listless. She developed arthritis so it was harder for her to get around. But like the brave and determined little darling she was, she did her best to cope but it was obvious that this cat's quality of life was just sucking SO hard and we began to discuss putting her down, out of her misery. This poor cat had been through enough. We were tired of her being treated like a guinea pig and sick of paying for all these bullshit tests. She actually had a follow-up visit with the eye doctor the day after we put her down but we were DONE with this bullshit, putting her under all this unnecessary stress. It was time to just let her be, let her live her last few days at home with us who loved her and doted on her.
She was our entire world. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make and feelings of guilt and remorse were just overwhelming me because for the the last year she started yowling all the time - mostly for attention because of her anxiety, she really hated being alone. It got to the point where my mom would have to "babysit" her if I was gonna be out for more than a few hours. I never had kids because I like to be independent and it was the kind of responsibility I never wanted, yet here I was now with this "special needs" kitty making so many demands on my time and I imagine this is what its like to have a child. It was just constant vaccuming of cat litter, cat hair everywhere, my eyes getting irritated from all of that, how she ate SO much and would wake me up all the time wanting to be fed (and yet she never gained weight, she was always 8 pounds give or take a few ounces). Sometimes I'd yell at her when she'd start yowling - mostly when I was in the room - and she would stop, but most of the time I'd just call her over and she'd come (which is why I know she was just doing it for attention, or rather, wanted to make sure I was there). The guilt of that is really what is consuming me.
For the last 5 of her days I was trying to spend as much one-on-one time with her as I could, knowing the clock was ticking. Every day I cried, and she was still here! I could only imagine how much worse my grief would be once we actually euthanized her. I found a place that does in-home euthanasia (petlossathome.com) - which I never even knew was an option but once I found it, I jumped right on it and made the call. And then we waited the 2 days until the scheduled time and place (our house), giving Shania more attention than she ever had before - and ironically, a few times she seemed annoyed that we kept trying to pet her (LOL!). The woman arrived at our house and was SO sweet, caring and understanding. She sat with us and made some small talk about animals and what she does, and how she feels about it. She said it’s not an easy job to do and sometimes it gets her emotional too, but she feels that she is offering a service to devastated pet owners who hate the idea of euthanizing their animals on a cold metal table in a depressing vet office. So she goes to their homes with her equipment and makes the process easy and less stressful than it has to be.
I picked up Shania in my arms who started to squirm (as I knew she would, she was all curled up in her favorite corner and now here I was disturbing her, but she never really liked being picked up in general) and then I put her down on her favorite spot on the bed and she finally stretched out and relaxed as I kept petting her and talking to her. Shania barely flinched when the sedation needle went in and within 5 minutes was in a total zen state of calmness. I’ve never seen her so calm and that brought me a bit of comfort knowing she was no longer stressed out and was just high as a kite without a care in the world. The whole time I was petting her and talking to her and then when her heartbeat had slowed down , she was ready for the euthanasia needle. The vet let us have a few more minutes with her, petting her, talking to her, kissing her and I even took some photos - mostly because it was the most calm I’d ever seen her (so it would be the last time for that). After letting her just lay there all gelled out for about 10 minutes, she did the death injection. The cat did not feel a thing. Then we waited as it took affect and I couldn’t even tell at that point when it did.
She still looked like our Shania - her eyes still half open (which they often were even when she as sleeping, because of the blindness her pupils were ALWAYS dilated so she still looked the same to me). She still FELT the same, her fur still so silky soft (the vet was amazed at how soft she was - I’m getting some fur clippings too, along with the special urn I picked that will have a photo of her on it, and an engraved brass plaque, plus a keepsake paw print stone with her name on it, and a keychain with some of the ashes that I can keep with me always). I managed to hold my emotions in until it started hitting me that even though she LOOKED the same - she looked just like she usually did when she’d sprawl out on the bed and nap - she was in fact, gone. It really looked like she was still napping. But of course the reality set in after a while and that’s when I started to lose it. I was crying, and saying loving words to her, saying how much I’m gonna miss her, kissing her on the top of her head.
We had towels, a trashbag and a blanket ready since we were told sometimes after death the bladder releases whatever’s left in it and also sometimes there is defecation. But Shania had not eaten anything in about 4 or 5 days, though she was drinking water like crazy. And yet, no spillage. After hovering around her limp and lifeless body for a few minutes, I finally gave the go ahead that it was OK to put her in the box. I had a square cardboard box ready that she used to love lounging in so I thought that was the best way to send her off. The vet wrapped her up in the pastel purple towel we gave her and placed her gently into the box, then covered it with the pink blanket we kept in her carrier when we had to take her to the vet. I was playing this really beautiful soothing angelic music during the whole time and it was lovely but SAD, so as soon as she was taken away, I had to turn it off after I came back up to my room and looked around as the reality what just happened finally hit me. I was sitting in the same spot where my beloved baby was and just sat there bawling my eyes out. My Goddess, the overwhelming grief and sorrow set off the worst panic attack I’ve ever had. My head was hurting so I took so a Klonipin praying it wouldn’t take too long to kick in. My heart is broken. My eyes were bloodshot and tears stuck to my face.
I haven’t moved any of her things out - the litterbox, the food and water dishes, her kitty condo, the table where I keep all the cat food (on top and under it), the paper bag she loved to play in, the other paper bag inside another cardboard box she loved to play in, some of the newspapers she liked to shred - there’s just still so much in here that reminds me of her and eventually I’ll remove it all but for now, I just feel like sitting here feeling like she’s not really gone. I don’t think it’s REALLY hit yet. She doesn’t feel gone. She didn’t even look dead when she left. She looked like she was taking another one of her long naps so that kind of messes with your head. So I guess I’m going through the denial phase of 5 Stages of Grief at the moment. It’s the only way I am able to even sit here and articulate this whole experience to share it with the world. I only hope some other pet owners read this and feel comforted knowing they’re not the only ones feeling this excruciatingly painful grief and guilt.
And oh that horrible guilt I feel for all the times when I was kind of mean to her with the yowling. How can I ever forgive myself? Am I having some kind of care-giver's remorse too? I mean, I feel horrible for even THINKING about how annoying she was becoming and getting so tired of the constant cleaning routine. My only solace is knowing that I put her down in the most gentle way possible - euthanized at HOME.
Petlossathome.com is a wonderful resource, for anyone considering the option. I didn't even KNOW it was an option until I started researching about euthanasia. You can put in your zip code to find out if they have a service in your area since they are national. Dr. Christina Kincade - who services Massachusetts and Rhode Island - is the one who came to us and I cannot say enough great things about her. She was SO nice, caring, compassionate, understanding and was so gentle with my fur baby. She made the experience less painful than I thought it would be so if you are thinking about putting your own pet down in the privacy of your own home -which I highly recommend because it’s less stressful for the animal and my own cat is proof. It’s a little more expensive than a doctor’s office but it was worth every penny. The total all-inclusive cost (the drive time, the gas for the car, the visit, the medical supplies, removal of the body, delivery of the body to the pet crematorium, the cremation, a ceramic paw keepsake, the keychain, the urn, the engraving for the urn) was $840. She works with a pet crematory service in the local area so all that business is taken care of. Now I am just waiting for the urn with the ashes and everything to be shipped back to me.
Now my question is - am I the only one who feels this guilt because I sort of started taking her presence for granted? Is this normal? Sometimes I feel like I failed this cat but my friends and family insist that I shouldn't because she would not have even lived to be 17 were it not for all the care and attention I took for her, especially since she had so many medical problems. Sorry this took so long. I don't know how I could've really condensed it further.
Recent photo of my baby:
