The Agony of the Euthanasia Decision
Walking the tightrope between relieving pain and robbing life
This will be a post that pet owners identify with. If that’s not you I apologise for the self indulgence of it.
My old dog, Toby is nearing the end of his life. Toby is a springer/retriever cross. He turned fifteen in November this year, we are heading into his sixteenth year. He has a list of complaints - he’s almost blind with cataracts, he is completely deaf, he has some arthritis, he is in heart failure and has fainting fits, he is incontinent and now he has the equivalent of dog dementia. I know what that sounds like. It sounds like a dog that is well past his sell by date.
He has good days and bad days. Last week, after a string of very bad days I made an appointment with the vet to discuss our options. Afterwards, my husband and I decided to set a date to have him put to sleep for the week between Christmas and New Year. We are both off work and doing nothing except lazing on the sofa so it felt like a well managed grief opportunity. The idea was that we would save him from getting any worse, even though there was still some joy in his life. The idea is a noble one - to cut off his life before we reach the inevitable crisis point at which time he will be suffering and he will know he is suffering. The idea was that we would not prolong his life just because we wanted to be with him still. But the idea that he is still enjoying parts of his life means this option feels like robbing him of the joy of the world. We have just this one precious journey on the earth. I feel this terrible responsibility to make sure I do the right thing by him, to make sure I somehow find the balance between preventing him suffering and making sure he has squeezed out every last drop of good life and joy and happiness.
Things he still enjoys: He walks twice a day, very, very slowly, but obviously enjoys it, and he has never been put off his food by anything. We have that in common.
I don’t really know why I’m sharing all this, only that everyone tells you ‘you’ll know’ when the time is right to put your dog down and for me, it is so much more complex than that. Or perhaps this isn’t the right time. I know that when we began to let the idea form in our heads, that he might be ready to be euthanised, I searched for suggestions on how you would know and even though I took the ‘quality of life’ quiz and he scored in the red zone, I still didn’t really know. If you are in the same position, I want you to know that it’s completely normal to not know. I think that, like grief, and this whole process is a form of grief, it builds slowly, your brain has to acclimatise to the idea that this person-animal who shares your life will be gone soon, and that you must make a decision that you do not regret. My brain is handling it like a monkey with a rubics cube, going over and over the options. The vet was helpful. She could not make the decision for us, but did say that it is completely acceptable to be thinking about euthanasia. One thing she said was that there is nothing that will stop the dementia, and nothing to stop the incontinence which are the two factors that are becoming so hard to manage. That nothing would stop that, no pills, no supplement - it would just get worse from here on. I felt like I had exhausted all options. That was a good feeling in a way, because it meant I’d done all I could for him.
It is breaking my heart. He is my boy. My best boy. I am walking a strange path in which I can’t tell what the right thing to do is, as he still has some good days. When I list the things we are managing it sounds like a good reason to put him to sleep, before we have to face a crisis and he’s in too much pain. It is a great deal of hard work and frustration to manage him, but oh, on his good days when he still wants to bring me a toy and play the gentlest game of tug with me. My heart.
The piper has to be paid. I have had fifteen years of rollercoaster dog companionship in which I have had the honour of being around an animal who only wants to be with me, that’s his favourite thing, and the payment for such love is a hard, crushing grief.
And so, we had booked the appointment, or rather we had talked of booking the appointment and had penciled it in with only the actual booking to do and lo, the old dog has a string of good days in a row in which all his health needs are manageable. And he gets his Christmas gifts early, and every time I pass his sleeping velvet head I kiss it and we take each day at a time and wait for the inevitable bad days to return in which a decision must be faced again.
This feels, for now, like the right decision.
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January 27th 10am to 3pm UK time.
This is the first of a series of ZOOM events aimed at writers who want to be inspired to write and to have the space to write. The first event features author Polly Atkin who I have invited to come and talk about writing memoir, following publication of her memoir Some of Us Just Fall. She’s a celebrated, internationally recognised award winning writer and a brilliant person all round, well worth coming to hear what she has to say about the craft of writing.
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What To Look For in Winter
What can we learn from nature in winter? How can we write about it? Where do we exist in the natural world and how do we tie that world to our own lived experiences, physical and emotional?
Winter is the dark time when the world is waiting: a time for survival, a time for for reflection, a time to experience the darker side of the world and to dig in and recognise the strengths in ourselves and the resilience of the world around us. In this four or six week course (depending on the tier you choose) we’ll be exploring nature in poetry and prose using natural and supernatural themes. From migrant birds arriving and leaving, to insects in their subterranean hideouts, the trees speaking to each other out of sight to the rites and folklore around the darkest days. This is your chance to explore the natural winter world both as an observer and in the context of your place in it. In What to Look for in Winter we’ll explore this world through published works, museum artefacts, film, imagery and physical interaction with nature, using prompts and directed activities to write ourselves into the winter months.
The course starts on 3rd January, a chance for you to start the year by prioritising your writing, perhaps, and to face the post new year’s slump with positivity and courage.
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I am in a very similar position with our dog Luna. She was rescued from a previous life of neglect and has now lived with us for 6 years. She was very unwell before Xmas and I found out from the vet about the process of having her 'put down'. She has recently found her bark (at long last) and is having a series of good days. I am scared that I may neglect her needs over mine in these last few months. But I am also told I will know, when the time comes. Sending you kind thoughts and totally understand how you feel.
We were asked to care for Jackson during a week when my ex had to travel overseas. He was in a worse shape than I’d expected. Coughing and staggering across the lawn every second hour. Unable to jump up into the sofa. We administered the medicine and I made some nourishing meals.
Saturday afternoon he suddenly refused to walk on the gravel road down to the mailbox, sat down and then turned around. Heading for the mountain foothills he walked through the woodlands behind our cottage. With gusto! No coughing or trembling or hesitation. He turned to look back at me, making sure that I followed along. Suddenly he seemed content and solemn. I waited for him while he rested. We returned home and he jumped up into the sofa.
We said goodbye the next day, returning him to my ex. One week later he resumed coughing again and died.
You’ll know...