On 13. June 2020, my beautiful 17-year-old tabby, ‘rissa, died after a long bout with what my vet finally came to believe was a nasal or frontal mass. For two years, she had repeated respiratory infections with sneezing and coughing, as well as occasional breathing issues; we treated her with steroids and antibiotics and hot steam showers and wet, warm compresses. Her symptoms eased after each treatment and she continued to eat, drink, eliminate, and play until maybe 3 or 4 months before her death.
At that point, I began to notice swelling at the bridge of her nose and, later, at her forehead. It came and went and came again, with steroids helping each time. But as the days wore on, she gradually stopped eating most of her food, no longer played and, in the last week, demonstrated severe weakness in her hind legs.
That night, the 13th, she had been lying around all day, as she had in the past week. We were getting ready for bed and she got down off the couch, peed on the floor, and just plopped down, seemingly exhausted and unable to go on. I’d seen her plop down like that a few times, but this time was measurably different.
I’d been thinking for a long while about how I would manage things when one of my girls could no longer function without noticeable suffering. My other cat, Silk, is 11 and has lymphoma; my concerns started more than a year ago with her and, while I never suspected ‘rissa would leave me first, I couldn’t help but consider possibilities for her as well.
I’ve never accepted euthanasia in the same way so many do today. I’ve never been able to get my head around the idea that when we euthanize, we are killing. We are stopping a heartbeat forever. Not only are we taking a life with euthanasia, with animals we are doing it without their consent. I ask myself all the questions I think everyone should be trying to understand: do they know? are they scared? do they wish they could stand up and yell at me to stop? are they truly suffering to the extent it appears? is this going to hurt them? I ask because, no matter how much people claim to understand about dying, nobody truly knows.
I think we rely too heavily on the idea that we can simply eliminate a part of a problem to solve the bigger one. Even those who are reportedly working for animal rights and care aren’t immune; organizations like PETA, which does fantastic work with/for farmed animals, has a long history of killing pets, oftentimes without any reasonable justification and sometimes completely outside of their rights to do so. People seek out vets to euthanize animals that are sick and too expensive or sometimes simply because they don’t want to care for them anymore. And many vets capitulate. It is unconscionable to me. Euthanasia is an acceptable end for animals in our society and its acceptance likely contributes to the way a great many people view their place as “less than” humans.
I made the decision for my girl that night and she died in my arms. It seemed to be a peaceful passing; one minute she was there, she was breathing, her heart was beating rapidly, I could feel the tautness in her muscles, and the next she wasn’t. She lay there, eyes open and head floppy, and she was just gone. I still don’t know if I did the right thing. I still wonder what that was like for her and I still sometimes worry that I did it because *I* couldn’t bear her suffering anymore. I believe she is at peace now, but it doesn’t relieve the worry that I put her through more than she deserved.
Silk is sitting with me as I write tonight, and I know she won’t be with me forever. I stopped chemo recently, because it was making her deathly ill, and will try a more natural approach to control her symptoms. I am dreading the day when living becomes too much for her. I can only rest in knowing that she and ‘rissa both have had a life filled with a love and any decisions I make are made in that same heart-centered space.
Suffering For Us 