I just this past Wednesday had to have my sweet 15 yr old cat put to sleep. He had a lymphoma that was wasting his poor skinny body and he just didn't have the strength to even walk very steadily anymore. The worst part was that he was still his sweet self, which made it hard to keep in mind that he was just going to suffer more the longer I waited to make the decision. I, with the encouragement of my wonderful vet, realized that at some point I was just keeping him around for my own emotional needs, and not doing what was ultimately best for him. Having him put to sleep was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life, but I know it was the right thing. Standing with him and watching the vet do the procedure was so hard, but I was glad that I was there with my boy, so that he wouldn't be afraid. I, too, worried that his heart had just slowed down but that he wasn't gone yet, but the vet assured me that he would give one more injection just to make sure - the vein had been hard to find in his little emaciated body, so the vet wasn't able to get all the liquid in at once. I, too, couldn't stop thinking about his little body being stuck in a freezer, waiting to be cremated with a group of other animals, but I keep telling myself that he is gone, and it is just his physical body, and not actually HIM anymore. I am so sorry for your grief, and I totally empathize. I get through the day by thinking that he is safe and no longer in pain, that he is comfortable and in heaven, where he can eat all the houseplants and jump on all the counters that he wants to, because I am sure that God doesn't mind. Try to focus on your pet being safe and in good hands Don't be afraid to seek help and someone to talk to. Our families *don't* always understand what we are going through, especially when the pet was around before they were. Be strong, and focus on the good memories. Best wishes, Amy

AB September 26th, 2009 10:40:53 AM

For me the worst part of losing two pets back to back was when I got my next pet - every time I left the house I was terrified that I would come home to find her little body dead on the bottom of her cage.  This feeling went away with time - and with a pet webcam!  It turns out my bird's daily routine when I'm gone is much more exciting than I expected.  

zandperl September 26th, 2009 10:48:14 AM

When a pet dies, whether peacefully or with assistance, at home or somewhere else, it is traumatic.  Audrey, you are not alone in your feelings at all.  What you are feeling is normal for lots of pet parents.  Society doesn't recognize the grief we have for our pets.  It isn't validated the same way the loss of a close family member is.  Yet for so many of us, this loss is greater and more poignant than almost any other.  Pets have a very special place in our hearts, one that we cannot fully explain.

The loss often leaves us with feelings of anxiety and panic.  The world we knew has shifted in a profound way that we can't quite explain to anyone who hasn't felt the same thing, suffered the same loss.  I felt that when I lost my girl Penny.  It wasn't until I set out a little memorial to her on my mantle that I could actually start to grieve and move forward.  I put her collar, her favourite toys and her favourite treat out, along with the condolence card that my vet clinic had sent.  I made a little sign for her, a memorial poem if you will, and when I started to feel those bad thoughts again, told myself that I needed to let her go, that her journey here was done and she wouldn't want to see me suffering.

I know she had a wonderful life here with us.  After leaving the SPCA and coming here to live with our cat and dog, she was truly happy.  Some days that was all I had to hold onto.  I felt as if I was spiraling out of control some days, as if the grief would consume me.  As much as it sucks to say this, it will get easier to bear.  You made the best decision for Stevie, which is what you needed to do.  He knows you loved him dearly.  He loved you, too.

Beverly September 26th, 2009 10:50:18 AM

For those in Minnesota, the U of MN Veterinary Medical Center has some wonderful people to help with anything that is affecting the human-animal bond, whether that be behavior problems, illness, or death. The service is available to anyone in the community.

Megan September 26th, 2009 10:52:34 AM

I know how it feels, Audrey. When I made the decision to have my cat Rhett euthanized, it was really hard, especially because he was still having "ok" days and bad days with his heart as the fluid congested his lungs. It turned out that his euthanasia day was an "ok" day, and that as I held him for the vet, he nuzzled and buried his head against the crook of my arm like he had so many times during his life. It was heartbreaking, and every step of the way out of the building, I kept wanting to say, "No, I take it back." As I drove away from the vet's office, I looked up into the trees behind the clinic and saw in the winter-thinned branches a whole flock of buzzards, hunched and gazing down at the building and the nearby retention pond. I know, logically, that the staff at my vet's office didn't just toss my dear cat's body out to the waiting buzzards. Of course they didn't. But I have never, ever, been able to shake the sight, or stop my mind from racing ahead to awful mental images of the buzzards tearing into his gray and white fur. Three years later, I'm nearly paralyzed with grief, typing that. So please, Audrey, don't feel alone. I think that our sense of responsibility for our beloved pets, and our deep attachment to them, especially when we have been nursing them and fighting for their lives and well-being, makes it hard to let go. The grief never goes away entirely, but after a while you begin to remember the good things and not just the things that happened at the end of their lives. You did everything you could for Stevie... and most important of all, you loved him, and still do. In time, you won't feel like you don't have anywhere to put that love, but for now be good to yourself, and don't let anyone tell you how you should feel.

Feline September 26th, 2009 11:54:14 AM

Along the lines of what Beverly said: I feel much better when I have reminders of my pets. Recently, I've learned how much better these reminders are (for me) when they're a part of something living. When I planted my Sophie Sue's ashes beneath this "Charlie Brown" tree, I didn't realize how comforting it would be to watch it grow. Maybe it's my imagination, but this tree even resembles her. It's like she's still with me in a way other pets haven't been. Good thing I saved all their ashes so I can now plant Bruno, Agatha, and Marcel trees, too.

Dr. Patty Khuly September 26th, 2009 11:54:41 AM

The e-mail you sent to Aubrey was beautiful.  I think one of the most important things we can do for others grieving the loss of a pet is to let them know that everything they experience is perfectly acceptable.  Everyone processes grief differently - we all bring our own unique experiences with life and loss to each new death, and they color and influence how we grieve.  And euthanasia only compounds grief - after all, we have no model in human healthcare for having to make the decision to end the life of someone we love so much.

I agree with Patty and Beverly, it helps to keep reminders of our lost pets around us.  I've always found photographs comforting and surrounded myself with framed photographs of Buckley after she passed.  Talking about her helped.  I was fortunate that I had a couple of short video clips of her, and while the first time I watched one of them after she died was devastating, I've come to find comfort in having captured some of her particularly endearing antics on video. 

I recently wrote an article titled How to Cope with Losing a Pet which contains several resources at the end that I have found personally helpful when I've had to deal with losing pets in the past. 

Ingrid King September 26th, 2009 12:14:13 PM

At Cornell, the Pet Loss Support Hotline (607-253-3932) is staffed by compassionate veterinary students three nights a week. There are similar hotlines across the country at different veterinary schools. We all take calls from all over the country. I volunteer for the hotline and talk to many, many people about the loss of their pets, upcoming euthanasias, guilt, memorialization, etc. The service is as anonymous as the caller wants it to be, and many people just find it helpful to talk to someone who understands that their pet was a part of their family and that their feeling of loss is very deep.

Please feel free to refer people to us. That's what we're here for.

Other hotlines can be found at http://www.vet.cornell.edu/Org/Petloss/OtherHotlines.htm

Ingrid September 26th, 2009 12:16:23 PM

Oh, today is a teary day for me, so many things I have read today just squeeze at my heart~~not an ache but that real feeling of your heart being squeezed. 

To Audrey, your Stevie is with you...his body just his earthly visual presence. I know what you are envisioning, as I work at an all feline hospital and know what I see when I look in the freezer, too. But truly, those kitties are not there, what is there is the vessel they were on earth in...they are not cold and hurting and sad any longer, for their passing set them free. Try to think of Stevie in that way if you can. 

I have many "mementos" of all the cats who have shared my life with me, from the old pink chair that was my first cats favorite chair and which I cannot bear to recover or change in any way...to the pottery cat vase that my first cats ashes are in...to the bracelet that I never take off that holds my two special cats ashes, with their birthstones to mark the day they were born...not to grieve the day they died.

Ingrid, I did not realize you volunteered for the Cornell Pet Loss Support Hotline. That makes me smile and feel good. Thank you for being...

Teri and the cats of Furrydance September 26th, 2009 01:06:42 PM

Audrey, I haven't yet had to make the difficult decision for one of my pets -- it was made for me both times. The first, I left my adored cat at the vet's for tests overnight, never suspecting that anything life threatening was going on. I was called in the morning and told my cat had died in the night. I was hysterical for days. I still feel that somehow I did something wrong in leaving him there.

The second, after we returned from a week's travel, my bulldog collapsed after her evening walk. It was 11:30 PM. She came to, but her tongue and gums were pale. We called the e-vet, and they equivocated about bringing her in, suggesting we watch her for a while and see how she did. She seemed better after nearly an hour and so we took her to bed with us. She passed in the night. I can't help but feel I failed her by not packing her into the car and driving her to the emergency vet.

I have two new dogs and a cat now, and they enrich my life immeasurably. But I never stop remembering Notrump and Lucie. They live forever in my heart, just like they were here in front of me. I was not a perfect caretaker, but I tried...and wherever they are, I hope they will forgive my shortcomings and remember the love.

Susan September 26th, 2009 01:32:13 PM

Andrey, I'm so sorry for your loss.  :-(  Clearly, Stevie's a very special and beloved feline.

I have been lucky to be mom to several cats in my lifetime. Each, at the end, were helped to rainbow bridge by my vet and me -- none passed away without intervention (even though very ill). Euthanasia is a funny thing -- I've always thought of it as the final gift I could give to a beloved pet suffering with an intractable illness. At the same time, because euthanasia requires me to choose when/where... it is especially traumatic for me. I worry over every little detail, and second-guess everything afterwards. I feel an intense responsibility to ensure my cats are safe and comfortable, and do not want them to suffer needlessly. I think this sense of responsibility makes euthanasia (and my grief for my departed pets) more complicated than for people I love who pass away. We feel so responsible for every little thing for our pets... ironically, this trait that makes us great pet parents also makes the grief more intense, more debilitating. We have difficulty accepting that we did everything we could both before and after euthanasia.

Please know that you have done everything possible for your beloved, Stevie, and that you're a great pet mom! Know that each of who have parted with a beloved pet understand, and support you in your grief. You are not alone.

---------------------------

Patti -

Thank you for not shying away from blogging about euthanasia and grief. It is part of being a pet parent, albeit a very painful part. Your letter to Audrey was kind and supportive.

When I have lost pets, I have found online communities focusing on certain ailments to be extremely supportive (even if I wasn't an active poster) -- that outpouring of support has been helpful. In addition, my vet is extremely supportive -- they allow clients as much time as needed before and after the euthanasia, and take the time to candidly discuss their reaction to the event -- it is comforting to know they grieve with me.

I have also found a book helpful: "The loss of a pet" by Wallace Sife, Ph.D. -- it describes the grieving process, how it can be complicated, and ways to heal.

karen September 26th, 2009 02:53:39 PM

I've had to make the decision a number of times and then with my last 4, they did it for me, 3 while hospitalized. I think we all agree it is never easy, no matter how or when, to experience such a loss. I've experienced irrational moments of thinking I see the recently departed pet turning a corner or darting under a piece of furniture.Some of my friends say this is the pet's way of saying I made it to the Rainbow Bridge and all is fine... I want to make sure you are ok, too. Some see a brighter star in the sky, some a rainbow, but what ever the visual is, I think it does help ease the emotional trauma of loss.

With human death, we have closure of a funeral or memorial service. We receive sympathy and permission to grieve. Not always with our pet loss. It is ok to grieve and there are places to receive the sympathy you deserve. A couple of posters mentioned a few of the veterinary schools that offer services. Many do offer phone services as well as group programs. At PetHobbyist.com there are Pet Loss and Support chats 365 nights a year. These are hosted by volunteers who are there to give support and allow a person the dignity of grieving. Anyone is welcome to come. Here's a link to the PetSupport.net main page http://www.petsupport.net/

Moira September 26th, 2009 03:04:10 PM

Audrey,

I had a similar experience, but I've managed to channel the grief and regret into an amazing fullfilment in my dogs.  My Black Jack was the dog that shepherded me from awkward elementary schooler all the way to college graduate. He was a charming and regal dog, with an uncanny sense of humor. A few weeks shy of 15, his hips finally betrayed him for the last time and we knew it was time. It would have been torturous to limp him through another Colorado winter, injuring himself every time his feet gave way.

Lacking a primary care vet, we called around and decided on the Dumb Friends League. My father and I cried silently the entire car ride there and filling out the paperwork was like signing a death sentence. When the receptionist informed me that we couldn't stay, couldn't be with him in the last moment, and that it'd happen "some time today," I was in no state of mind to know that that should have been a deal breaker. I simply couldn't go through the anticipation and ritual again, somewhere else, some time later.

The whole day was torture. Is it done yet? Is he still with us? Is he alone and scared? The same thoughts as you, only lacking the knowledge that the deed had been done. I didn't feel an ounce of closure until I had his ashes in hand some days later.  I truly regretted not being there and I vowed to never make that mistake again.

That experience has made me a better dog owner, I now have a vet who knows my dogs almost as well as I do, who cried at the passing of Black Jack's companion Bonnie Belle, and who brought my first litter safely into the world. The multi-year search to find the next Jack convinced me that I should become involved on a higher level with the breed, to participate in dog sports of every kind, and finally to start my own breeding program.

What I've gained from the experience is so much more than I lost.  If I had any advice, it's to realize that the feelings that your dear Stevie is still alive stem from the fact that your feelings for him are still very real. He has passed, but your love for him has not. Stevie is not suffering, you are.  He's still alive in your heart, and that heart is broken right now. I think your feelings are the very natural consequence for first having to grieve for Stevie, since it was his time, and so quickly having to grieve for yourself, because of your loss. I think your heart has merged those two strong emotions giving you the mistaken feeling that he is still alive and that he is suffering. Know that he is not, and recognize that you are.

All the best.

Christopher @ BorderWa September 26th, 2009 04:01:58 PM

Although some excellent resources for pet loss have already been mentioned in the comments here, I feel that I should point out the Pet Loss Support Hotline at Tufts veterinary school, staffed by veterinary students.

Jessica Hekman September 26th, 2009 04:36:10 PM

Dr. K: I can't imagine what it feels like to receive an email like that! And can't imagine what you can do to reply. My answer would be a sympathetic, empathetic tone and explain some real facts. I would tell Audrey what may have been left out by her Vet. That inserting a catheter or needle is not without pain, that the pre-anesthetic (whatever was used) may have created an odd sensation and/or that it could have been a dis-associative drug that created a mental sensation or even a hallucination. (which is why I absolutely loved & trusted my current vet's honesty to NOT recommend a pre-euth drug!) That motion to meow was a temporary reaction to whatever sensation it caused. But again, I would tell Audrey it was without a doubt briefly felt & HUMANE and she did the right thing. I also think that instead of giving a person a lot of time alone in the euth room prior to the act, it is appropriate to give the person a few minutes with their dead pet afterwards. This may help the person to realize their pet is "truly" gone.

And to back up a bit, it is in the AVMA guidelines to explain the process & what could possibly happen, before any injection(s)! I suspect that Stefani, with her Mom's dog Wolfie did not have the benefit of a brief, and that one of the drugs may have been administered to quickly causing the agonal gasps. (maybe not)

Grief is hard and the readers here understand it well, or wouldn't be fans of this blog. But it is stages, just as in human loss, and the final one (in my book) is acceptance. That can take a while to process and file away in your memory bank. When it does file away in its proper place, then the many, many happy & funny times surface in bittersweet remembrance, sad at times and eventually completely happy and at peace.

That's where my experience with Pocket will never be right and departs so completely from acceptance. To hold a cherished 11 1/2 year pet in your arms and know that she is dying a deliberate and agonizing death and you are helpless to stop or change it, has got to be the worst possible experience ever. A memory that never leaves to be filed away and let the normal enjoyment of life continue. It is not "grief" and never will be.

Barbara A. Albright/NH September 26th, 2009 04:42:01 PM

I lost a small kitten named Gumby to an accident. He was the first pet I'd ever lost unexpectedly. That didn't have some type of disease or condition we'd been treating and expecting the goodbyes.

It was horrible. It took me months to really recover where I could look at and enjoy his picture without bursting into tears. Even two years later, I find my eyes tearing up as I type this. For those of us who love their pets deeply, to those of us whom pets are family members, the grief is terrible. It's real tangible and frequently agonizing. The added suddenness of unexpected and unplanned only makes it that much worse.

I bury my pets at home, and usually plant something significant nearby. I also make jewelry to wear bearing their names. It helps me.

I am so sorry for Audrey, but she is not alone in her feelings. Many of us have them, but I think sometimes the sharing part can be more difficult.

LorriM September 26th, 2009 07:24:21 PM

There have been times when I do not know what I would have done without the support of the Prayers, Healing, and Support forum hosted on the Best Friends Network. (http://network.bestfriends.org/groups/phs/forum/default.aspx). On Sunday night, Marg posted a candle ceremony list for Monday evening's ceremony.

This forum contains some truly amazing and caring people, people who would understand what Audrey is going through because everyone has gone through something similiar.

Meg September 26th, 2009 08:39:33 PM

Audrey, I recently had the same experience with euthanizing my cat where he tried to vocalize just before passing.  Yes, it was hard to watch. 

I took him home for the rest of the holiday weekend until I could take him to my veterinarian to be cremated. I left him in his carrier for a day and looked at him frequently because I had the same thoughts as you.  He was definitely at peace. 

Like you, I often thought about what happened. Still do. It does get easier over time and good memories become more frequent than the bad.

I hope this helps.

C September 26th, 2009 11:32:10 PM

Just a thought ... I had two of my cats at home after they passed.  It sounds morbid but it actually made me feel better so I would not have the same thoughts as Audrey did and I could spend as much time as I needed saying goodbye.  When you bury your pets you have them with you until they are buried.  Why not do the same when they are to be cremated?  

C September 26th, 2009 11:37:44 PM

I appreciate the emotional support from all of you, especially from C. I wish that I'd known that it was OK to do keep Stevie at home afterward until the day of cremation. I thought that he'd start changing in appearance and that would be worse. I did worry about the following from Barbara A. Albright/NH: "...I absolutely loved & trusted my current vet's honesty to NOT recommend a pre-euth drug!" which indicates to me that although you(Barbara) assured me that his injections were HUMANE and that I did the right thing, it was most likely NOT the most humane way to go, and that definately exacerbates my pain. Maybe his first injection was different from what you called a pre-euth drug; it was supposed to be anesthetic, and hopefully not like the pre-anesthetic or the dis-associative drug that you(Barbara) spoke of. I can only hope so. You also mentioned a dog, poor Wolfie, possibly being administered the drug too quickly, hence causing gasps, which adds again to my distress by making me think that this may have been the case with Stevie. Maybe I misconstrued a sincere effort by you(Barbara) to be consoling but I honestly I felt worse after reading your letter. I also feel terrible for what you and Pocket went through. What a nightmare. I am glad that you put his story on a web site. Your good suggestion to spend time with one's pet afterward, I did do. I stayed with Stevie for an hour until someone came to take him away. Despite that, I guess my mind played tricks on me, preventing me from believing he was truly gone while he looked just the same. I'd still like to know that his last gasps after the first drug were not gasps of pain, but if that's not knowable or true, it is still important to know the truth so as to be able to prevent it from happening again in the future. Does anybody know if what the doctor told me, that the gasps were just involuntary breathes, is true?May all of you who love animals stay strong and continue loving animals in need, in particular those in shelters, the pound or the street. Please rescue instead of paying breeders while there are dogs and cats on death row at the pound who need us.

Audrey September 27th, 2009 02:03:31 AM

I was rereading all the letters and wanted to say thanks to everybody, and again to Patty for asking others to help out. Beverly, what you said (The world we knew has shifted in a profound way) is so right on. Feline, thanks so much for your story. I could really relate to every detail. Ironically too, Stevie is grey and white. Best wishes to you too, poor Amy(AB), for what you went through. Ingrid, I'm going to check out your article, and thanks for the hotline info. Teri, I wish that everyone who works with animals could be as compassionate as you are. Susan who lost her cat while at the vet for an overnight check, I'm so sorry. That had to be devastating. Karen, you described why the loss can be even more intense with a pet so perfectly. Thanks again to everyone else, LorriM, Meg, Jessica, Moira, Christopher, Megan, Zandperl(hope I didn't leave anyone out, I'm not used to forums)for their kind words and for the links and hotline numbers.

Audrey September 27th, 2009 02:37:28 AM

I just wanted to step in and clarify the concept behind the two-injection euthanasia method:

The idea is that the first drug completely anesthetizes the pets so they have no awareness. I use an overdose of telazol (tiletamine and zolazepam) because it's sort of like a very strong valium-like drug. The animal should be immobile and very pliable. This first drug can go either in the vein or in the muscle. The problem is, it stings a bit when it goes in the muscle or if it doesn't go directly in the vein. The muscle shot also means it takes longer for the drug to work. That's why most vets like to use an IV catheter. This may seem like a painful step, but it's much less painful than the ouch should these first-injection drugs go outside the vein (as when we "miss," which is more common in older, debilitated euthanasia candidates than in most other patients).

The second drug is typically a barbiturate. An overdose of a barbiturate stops the heart, usually within 30 seconds.

I confess to not using the same exact method with every patient. I make an assessment that includes 1) how "easy" the vein is, 2) how aware the animal is already, 3) what the owners' state of mind is, 4) whether the animal will mind an intramuscular shot, etc. Then I decide whether a catheter is truly in the best interest of the patient considering that an IM shot is potentially less uncomfortable.

There's no exact calculus for this, the slight differences with each approach just reveal themselves to me with each individual patient/owner combo. While the delivery method changes, the one thing that's always constant is the two drugs.

I personally believe in the two drug method because it's easier on the pet and the owner. The end is more peaceful because the animals that receive one shot only are more likely to vocalize and move agonally during the process. While I don't believe the animals feel anything when they make these death grimaces, etc., it's not the picture I want my clients to be left with. The last moments are so sacred for the human-animal bond that I believe we need to do everything possible to make the death appear as peaceful as possible. And I think the two injection method not only appears more peaceful...it is actually a more quiet and calm experience for the pet.

Here's an entire post on euthanasia methods that you should all read.

Dr. Patty Khuly September 27th, 2009 08:12:12 AM

Audrey: I am so very sorry that you felt worse after reading my post, which was a sincere effort to explain what you saw. Your Stevie died a humane death. You need to know that and remember that.

I have been a multiple pet owner for 35 years, and therefore have had to let many go through euthanasia (actually 100%, except one young one lost via accident), so I thought sharing my honest thoughts were reassuring. They were for Stefani, who was traumatized by Wolfie's humane but not peaceful-appearing euthanasia.

There is a detailed AVMA guideline on their website about euthanasia of various species, when you feel strong enough , you could read it.

I have witnessed (with my pets) 3 types of euthanasia:

1. a humane two shot protocol: ketamine IM which caused involuntary retching (dry heaves) prior to relaxation & then Fatalplus to render unconscious & finally death

2. the majority received one shot of FatalPlus or Sleepaway (brand names for Pentobarbital) and died humanely no more than 30 seconds rendered unconscious (actually not even 10 seconds for my last elderly Dottie) and only one displayed what is called "agonal gasping" & urine elimination post-death. Still, it was obvious that this after being rendered unconscious

You do not describe the above agonal gasping, but Stefani did with Wolfie, prior.

3. an inhumane death via forbidden chemical: this would be so rare to encounter at any vet clinic or via any ethical, moral vet, but still if it happened to me, it could happen to anyone, but more likely without the owners presence. The inhumane substance in this case was a saturated potassium chloride substance administered directly IV to my fully conscious Pocket. It was undoubtedly cruel to witness, prolonged, and severely painful. It did not have the resemblance in the slightest to your Stevie or Wolfie's death. NOT even close!

And although, I had "pre-signed" for on site cremation, my nightmares are inclusive of far worse: Pocket's body lying in a dissection tray, Pocket's body necropsied with students gathered around gaping in awe, and the many conscious and unconscious dream-state reliving of every detail of what transpired. It is not the same as #1 or #2.

My purpose of the sharing of this, is to warn what could happen. Rare as it was, their have been Veterinarians across the country that have been investigated and cited for various forms of inhumane euthanasia practices.

Why has this practice been secretly tolerated, protected, and allowed in my state of NH for a decade or more? I have absolutely no conception, but know that it has (post incident). Why do I repeatedly discuss this shame? Because to not do so, aids and abets this cruelty, and in my eyes, hurts very deeply all those animals and humans. I am truly ashamed of the state I have called mine for 47 years.

I thank you for your empathy, Audrey, and some day soon, Stevie's death will be filed in a good place, and happy & fun memories will give your heart peace.

Barbara A. Albright/NH September 27th, 2009 09:48:38 AM

Audrey, Deepest sympathies.  I believe in life after this for us and our pets.  I wonder if the feeling you're having is Stevie asking you to let him pass on to where he belongs; if what he needs is your permission to go.  They love us and I believe they will stay with us even after death if we need them to but the better place for them is on the other side of the bridge.  It's never easy to send them on their journey but I remind myself we'll have eternity together when the time is right and, in the meantime, they may come back to visit from time to time.  Whatever pain and fears we have here pass when we do.

There are many who will call us nuts or crazy.  Seek out those counselors and other bereaved pet owners because they won't.  You can already see you're not the least bit alone in your feelings.

PJBoosinger September 27th, 2009 01:38:52 PM

I think you've said it best. Thanks for sharing this post. We face the same dilemma with many of our Tripawds community members who turn to our Tripawds Coping With Loss Discussion Forum for help.

Audrey is by no means alone. We have been there. And it especially sucks the first time. While I was fortunate enough to feel our first dog Jerry was in a better place after we released him from his broken body – one year ago this week – memories of helping with the procedure do stir up serious emotions. It is good to have a community of support, like this.

tripawds.com September 27th, 2009 02:01:30 PM

I've seen many more humans die than pets because I once worked on an Myocardial Infarction Research Unit at a major medical center designing instrumentation, and because my father had a massive stroke (years ago) but lasted two weeks because of all the high tech applied.  There's lots of involuntary movement going on after right death even when there are no organized electrical activity showing in the brain or heart and no responses to pin-pricks, noise, etc.  Unless one has seen the evidence first hand a few times it's all too easy to believe the person is still in their body.

I don't know what else to say. Great losses are inevitable if one has done any real living and relating. They hurt terribly and there's no way to avoid them.  There are ways to avoid letting them destroy one, though.

Will September 27th, 2009 02:25:12 PM

This is extremely important. I am sorry for your loss too. There's no way to describe the overwhelming pain that overcomes most of us who love our animal companions.

I agree that for the things you are experiencing it is important that you talk as much as you need to with people who understand. If you continue having the fear and sense that he's still alive, I would suggest you speak with a therapist about it. Problem is, you have to find a therapist who truly understands human grief and pain after losing a pet. I will do some research from time to time in order to identify some other pet-loss therapists around the country.

Meanwhile, there is no timeline on greiving-anyone who tells you to move on does not understand.

The pain is physiologically real, not just psychologically.

A while back I received a flier from the UF Vet School and clinic. They have a therapist on staff. I hope this will be the trend. As wonderful as some vets are, they are not particulalrly trained as therapists.

Stephanie Haun, M.S.Ed., LMFT September 27th, 2009 02:43:21 PM

Our Ginger passed away this past Dec. 1. Not a month ago, as I looked out my mom's back door, where Ginger lived, I swear I saw her in the back yard, going pee. Just for a split second, through the glass window. Grief is real and while eventually the pain eases that doesn't make it all go away. My mom's other dog, Kidd, passed away Mar. 17, just months after Ginger. This past Friday at lunch we were talking about dogs and table food and my mom said how she only gives her dogs pizzabones (what we call pizza crust) and how much they love them, she realized what she said and almost started crying, because she only has one dog now. Everyone grieves differently, and it can be really, really hard, especially if you aren't at the euthanasia/death, and (I feel) especially if it isnt' something you've had a lot of practice with. And while I do feel that bodies are just bodies, I still either bury them at home or have them cremated privately. Pain and grief is individual, but it by no means is something anyone has to go through alone.

Also, I prefer the one shot euthanasia. We did go for the two injection (ace and then euth solution) for Kidd because he was seizuring and couldn't be stopped and I just wanted so desparately to a: end his pain and b: not have the actual euth go badly. But with old kitties with bad veins, I usually prefer valium by mouth before the trip. And for little critters, I've had hamsters put into the nose-cones for anesthesia before the injection, as NO ONE is sticking a needle in the heart of my live animal.

I am so sorry for Audrey's loss, and all of the above posters. It truly is one of the hardest things ever.

Brooke September 27th, 2009 06:42:33 PM

My heartfelt sympathy to Audrey and to all of you who posted their experiences.  I have been agonizing and obsessing for the last 13 days over the one-shot euthanasia of one of my dogs,  a 17 year-old sweetheart.

Raised in a multi-pet family and having at least 6 cats and dogs for the last 20 years,  I always heard that the two shots method was the only humane way,  the gold standard, so I was horrified when I realized my long-time trusted vet was giving only the euth shot to my elderly dog.  She said his pulse and blood pressure were too low for the first shot.

I had witness euthanasia only 4 times before,  all two-shot, all peaceful and this one was so much tougher,  after reading all this I can only hope that my Sacha did not feel anything,  and that I did right by him.

Dr. Khuly,  I will now read your previous post on euthanasia,  had skipped it before because I knew the time was getting close for Sacha and I could not bear thinking about it.  Now,  I regret that I was not more informed to question my vet 13 days ago.

Thank you for your blog and your kindness.

Elisabeth September 28th, 2009 09:57:35 AM

My condolences to you, Audrey.  This is a heart-wrenching thing to go through.  I don't know if this will help you at all, but when I lost a ferret for the first time, years ago, my husband said of his remains, "These are just his things that he left behind.  The real Cully is with you now."  I really did find that a comforting thought, that he was able to leave behind the body that failed him and now endured in my heart.

Dr. Khuly's comment about post-traumatic stress disorder was spot on.  I went through a period of waking up nearly every night, sometimes two or three times during the night, in an absolute heart-pounding panic, sometimes leaping out of bed, convinced to my core that I'd forgotten to do something very important and that the consequences were going to be horrible.  I talked to my primary care physician about this, and she noted that I had lost a ferret not that long before who was on a complicated medicine schedule, I think it was five different meds, some of which could be given together, some not, some with food, some not, etc.  Essentially, I was suffering a mild form of PTSD, a delayed reaction to having to plan everything around that ferret's medicine schedule and watching him get sicker regardless of how closely we stuck to the clock.  It seems obvious in retrospect that this was the cause, but sometimes you can be too close to a thing to see it for itself.  Just the conversation with my PCP was enough to minimize these episodes.  It still happens once in a while, but I'm able to tell myself that everything is okay and believe it, and go back to sleep.  So if you have a good relationship with your PCP or other medical professional, it really could be worth talking to her or him about some coping strategies. 

regina September 28th, 2009 10:52:47 AM

You're right, Dr. Khuly, there are many websites and resources for pet parents and it's difficult to know which are credible.  While our website does sell products and info products, we also offer many free articles as well as an updated referral list of experienced, credentialed counselors and resources.  We make a genuine effort to stay in touch with the veterinary and mental health leaders in the pet loss support field, updating our information according to the latest views and research in both fields.  I am a former veterinary grief educator and clinical director myself, so I know how important the euthanasia experience is to get "right" for clients.

I feel confident that our website presents the views and compassion so prevalent in veterinary medicine.  You can find us at www.veterinarywisdom.com  There are two sites to choose from there, one for veterinary or animal business teams and one for pet parents.  Check out the VW resource and support centers on their respective sites and you'll find articles and resources to help vets make referrals and help pet owners cope.

Laurel Lagoni September 29th, 2009 11:41:19 AM

Brooke: Your post really says it best, thank you for sharing. When I had to euthanize my old mix-breed dog with his 3rd bloat late one night, I woke up at 1 am three nights in a row and heard him scratching to make his nest on his dog bed. Every now and then, my Dad hears my Mom calling him. This can go with heartfelt grief and is not abnormal. I too saw glimpses in the Winter of one of my dogs in the backyard.

I wanted to check back, because in the past I got scathing and nasty replies to my posts on this subject. Like "get over it, you need help type comments" No one could understand the difference between normal grief and loss, and witnessing evil cruelty firsthand. I'm glad those posters have become silent or maybe have gone away.

Laurel L: I didn't expect to find a plaster paws site, and although I am not suggesting it is a bad thing, it also reminded me of my Pocket's cruel end. You see, where she met her end also offered those plaster paws. I have my pre-signed euthanasia form. It was the first and only place that gave a sales pitch for it, by the very same 4 yr. degreed technician that knew in a few short minutes she will be making up a very cruel substance to kill my dog.

In my book, you have to be some special person to go from sales empathy to utter indifference. Does your firm supply those kits? Bet it was by the cartons, if so. BTW, I still note their full pharmacy advertisement http://dovervet.com/other.shtml

What would that mean to you?

Barbara A. Albright September 29th, 2009 07:52:55 PM

((Audrey))

What you are experiencing is not abnormal at all.

Although my experiece of losing my cat was fraught with trauma that complicated the grief process, I too struggled with after death throughts some of them disturbing and others comforting.

One of the reasons I did not want to bury him in my yard (once I decided burial was the right thing to do for him), is that I did not trust myself not to get up in the middle of the night and dig him up in a grief stricken frenzy, morbid as that sounds.  I had dreams where he was disappearing down a hole into the ground, away from me, still alive.

It did help to have a "viewing" at the funeral parlor of the pet cemetery where I ultimately chose his resting place.  It also gives me comfort to visit his grave and plant flowers and talk to him and spend time "caring" for him by tending to his memory.  This way I have some outlet for my desire to keep "caring" for him.

Memorializing a pet is a helpful ritual for acceptance and healing.  Spending time making scrapbooks.  Writing stories of memories.  Another thing that helped me was talking to people who knew my cat, Toonces, during his life, and hearing THEIR stories about him.  This made me happy -- to see him through the eyes of others.  You might ask friends and family to write their favoriate memory of your pet.

Iit is good advice to talk to others who **understand**.  This would, in your case, be others who had a deep bond with their pets as you did and considered them family members.  Many "pet owners" still don't get it, and are more like non pet owners than like US. 

Euthanasia often results in a lot of second guessing.  I tormented myself after the euthanasias of most pets I have had to see through the end of life.  Usually wondering if the process was traumatic, painful, frightening for them.  What helped me in one case was to have friends who were with me reassure me that it appeared peaceful to them.

Also, thinking about the alternatives helped me: 

Had I not chosen to euthanize these well loved pets, it is a real possibility -- no, probability -- that they would have suffered prolonged respiratory distress or some other kind of prolonged and even more uncomfortable experiences while dying.  I made the choice that I thought would ensure the least suffereing for them, as I am sure that you did.

Know that it is normal to spend time after the fact agonizing over the euthanasia process, many of us do.  Also realize that even if there was momentary discomfort (as long as the euthanasia was done in the approved fashion) it was likely FAR less awareness of discomfort than the pet would have experienced had he been "allowed" to "die naturally."  At least, I believe this is usually true.

It also helps to remember that as far as we know, pets don't contemplate their mortaility.  I can't say that this is impossible, but we have no evidence that they do.  So they do not know they are being helped to die.

In summary, this is the best advice I can give. Memorialize your pet, and talk to others who "get it." Realize that while you are having many irrational thoughts, this is normal.

As Dr. K said, the loss of a pet can cause PTSD.   This is probably least likely when euthanizing a pet who has a serious disease, but more likely under circumstances where there is a trauma surrounding the death or the events leading up to it.

This is particularly true where a horrible vision and survivor guilt are both involved in the circumstances related to the death.  There are certain circumstances that make fertile ground for PTSD, and they include:  horror, feelings of helplessness, and fear for ones life or the life of a loved one. 

Certainly, having the vision of your dog at the bottom of a pool is a trauma inspiring vision, and comes with attendant guilt.

Having your dog slip his collar (which was perhaps too loose) and run into the street to be hit by a car (as happened to a friend of mine), then holding him in your arms on the car ride to the vet as he bleeds and dies, certainy can cause trauma.

The memory of watching your pet suffer from injury and/or die at the hands of a vet -- into whose hands you delivered him -- is another such event. 

One other way to help heal in the wake of this particular type of loss -- one involving survivor guilt, horrific visions, and feelings of violation, is to try to bring about change.  This is what John Walsh did when his son Adam was murdered.  This is what the founders of MADD did after losing children to drunk drivers.  This is what a US couple is doing after accidentally running their child over while backing up the SUV.

Part of my process is to warn and educate people about blind trust of veterinarians.  And from the consumer viewpoint, the need for regulatory enforcement in the veterinary field. 

Sometimes in order to heal one must work to change things.

Stefani September 30th, 2009 05:54:59 PM

Audrey --

I just read your post with notes to Barbara and wanted to add a few things.

It was my mom's dog, Wolfie, that Barbara was talking about. 

I want to make it clear that the method that was used to euthanize Wolfie was the one-shot method, which Dr. Khuly described, and was not the 2-shot method, which I believe you had for your pet.  Having observed both, I prefer (and will in the future request) the two-shot method. As Dr. Khuly indicted, with the one shot method, there was some movement I did not expect, and it disturbed me.

I have never seen this happen with two shots, but even if you did see that . . .

First, Dr. Khuly can better speak to what really happens with the two shot protocol than I can, but I keep coming back to this one thing:

I agonized a lot over the euthanasia of my cat Toonces, who I finally had to euthanize after 2 years trying to help him recover from an insulin overdose that his vet's son had given him.  It was clear to me, at the time I chose to euthanize him, that he was going to die in the coming days, whether I chose to do it or not.

I made the choice for, probably, the same reasons you did:

I wanted the least suffering for him.

Sure, there are people who claim they have let their pets die "naturally" and that they have gone "peacefully" in their sleep.  But many of these people have not witnessed the death, and so they are just assuming it was peaceful.  Not everyone who has witnessed unassisted death reports that it was peaceful.  Some do, some don't.  I did not want to take that chance.

I too, tormented myself, but I kept reminding myself that EVEN IF for brief minutes -- probably seconds -- he experienced discomfort during euthanasia, it was very likely must less suffering than he would have experienced had I just "let him die naturally."

I had read the descriptions of natural death on this website:

http://www.felinecrf.org/the_final_hours.htm

(scroll down)

and I decided I did not want to take the risk that he would suffer as described in one of the two accounts presented under the "Natural Death" section of this page. 

Actually, now that I have referenced it, this website has a LOT of useful information on the euthanasia process and also on grief.

See:

http://www.felinecrf.org/saying_goodbye.htm

Although it is specificlaly about cats with renal failure, the grief section is really applicable to any pet loss. If you scroll here, you will see online support resources.  I don't know if they are up to date but I am pretty sure you will find something there helpful.

As for my comments about traumatic loss, I am hoping that there is not that kind of guilt attending you.  Those really pertained to loss of pets under different circumstances (my site tells about my cat: http://www.TheTooncesProject.com)

Even so, euthanasia is never easy and the loss is keen, even when it is after a long and ultimately fatal illness. We have been in your shoes. I hope you got some helpful information somewhere here.

Stefani September 30th, 2009 06:26:25 PM

Hello Patti.

I also wanted to mention the Argus Institute that has been a valuable resource for me and my clients http://www.argusinstitute.colostate.edu/grief.htm as well as the Dove Lewis Pet Loss Support program in Portland Oregon where I live and practice http://dovelewis.org/programs/Pet_Loss.aspx . Enid Traisman who runs the program is amazing. She also runs Art Therapy workshops which have helped so many people and honored so many pets.

Euthanasia is so important to me and I am so sorry that the experience that Audrey had was so traumatic. We try so hard to make the experience smooth and reverential for both the pet and the pet's family. I have even counciled families to wait because one memeber was not ready although the pet was. They leave us behind to suffer and miss them and I think it is ultimately so important for those left behind to be as ready as they can be. We have changed venues, given a few more hours and made the experience what families want for their pets so they can remember the good times.

Thank you for bringing up the subject.

Warmly,

kristin

:Dr. Kristin Sulis October 5th, 2009 04:51:38 PM

I am not certain of the protocol of this site but I have been searching for a place I can blog, write to others in pain and help to grieve the loss of my 15 y/o Pyranese Mountain Dog, Humphrey Bogart.

 I had to put him to sleep yesterday afternoon after having him for 13 years. He was the only pet I had by myself and for that long. Our bond was very strong. We were in tune with each other. He would sigh when I sighed, yawn when I yawned. Sometimes he was like velcro. I called him my monkey because he had to be doing whatever I was doing and followed every step I took. Now he is gone and I am lost. I don't think I loved anything as much as I loved him. He had helped me through some really tough times and I was not ready to lose him.

I am also feeling bad that I did not have the opportunity to go into the room with him before he was euthanized and have some guilt with that.

Cheryl October 9th, 2009 11:58:14 PM