First Person: It’s Hard to Send a Pet to Heaven

Hi, I was actually Googling a book when I came across this. Odd timing, maybe perfect timing as my little boy Nash lies in my chair. He got out of breathe last weekend so Monday we took him to the vet. Xrays showed his trachea pushed sideways and bent like an exhaust pipe. The DR thinks it's a tumor. There is also a large shadow next to his heart. He has been drinking and peeing a lot more lately. Bloodwork indicated kidney and liver distress. He had a pretty rough couple days this past Friday and Saturday so they put him on steroids which have eased his breathing difficulty much to my relief.

This isn't my first time. He is the 5th baby of "the pack". He will be 13 Nov 17th if he makes it. We had his b-day party yesterday just in case. I have learned from the past not to wait if there's something you want to do while they can still enjoy it. Nash was not his usual excited self but he did sit up, and his eyes brightened when we sang Happy Birthday and got out the cake. All my dogs loved/love cake! Vanilla of course, with roses. Austin used to sing along and I had to hide the cake box until party time or he'd carry on all day.

I always think that I'll be ready to say goodbye because raising six dogs together was exhausting but the memories are priceless and I'd do it all over again if I thought I physically could. Austin lived only to 9Y 9M old, he had a lifelong history of severe health issues and we almost lost him several times before he finally could not take any more July 31st 2011. 

Tee-Bone lived into his 13th year and was very senile from a lifelong history of seizures, meanest dog I ever met, 9 pounds of vicious apricot fur and bit everyone at least once, but during his "sane" moments, he made us laugh like crazy. He died in June of 2004.

Austin went through several major surgeries and battled oral cancer, I thought for sure my "miracle boy" had beat the odds and would live to a ripe old age. After all, he'd survived a bladder rupture, several attacks of Pancreatitis, knee surgery, ruptured disks in his back which required emergency surgery and then another bladder surgery, then after that the oral cancer. I was convinced that he'd live a long life after that. Not so. 7 months after beating oral cancer, his pain came back and it was so bad he couldn't function. I'll never forget the drive down to his favorite hospital. Austin, who was usually extremely vocal was very quiet. He'd met so many doctors, nurses and techs in his life that he touched many lives with his animate exuberant personality. When Austin was in the house...everyone knew it. He made everything, and I mean everything brighter. He helped me through the loss of Winky and Austin kept the other dogs on their toes. He took it  upon himself to become my therapy dog, and helped with my hearing loss. He was truly amazing. He was on Animal Planet, too. After he was gone, I was crippled with grief. I laid my head on his bed at night and cried the hardest tears ever. I am still not over the loss.

Fate was unkind. Crocket, who was my lap dog for 11 solid years, non fail, was diagnosed with oral cancer 5 months after Austin left. Crocket would lay on my chair with me 24/7. He was just that content and devoted. Everyone had their place as the years went on. In the early years, I'd have five dogs on my chair with me for TV time. It was awesome. 

Nash is Crocket's littermate, they were together since birth. They got neutered together, everything, because they were so bonded. Nash cried the night Crocket didn't come home and it broke my heart. How many times can one survive a broken heart? I wonder. Nash adopted "surrogate Crocket" and began sleeping on my chair with the stuffed dog. I'd be here at my desk and catch Nash staring at me just like Crocket used to do. Now our pack of six has shrunk to two and each time one leaves, the house become bigger...quieter...sadder.

I don't know when Nash will leave us. He's very tired and weak. His appetite is waning whereas before he was always hungry. He was never overweight, never had any health problems so he had a very good almost 13 years. Crocket was healthy, too, but was always very frail and required a special diet. He only lived to be 11Y 4M...way to short! 

So as I sit here writing this, I wonder how long will Nash be with me. And while I always think I'll be ready, I never am. I always think I'll be strong. But I never am, not with them. My dogs are my family. They've treated me better than 99% of the people I know. I love them as much as I have ever loved anyone. They were not just dogs. They are friends, family, companions, confidants...everything. They made me laugh, smile, kept me moving, got me out of bed, kept me busy, made me feel alive and gave me reason to fight the physical symptoms that plague me daily. We have one little girl, the same age as Nash almost, she will be 13 in January of 2014. There are no words to describe the grief of losing them

When the time comes, I always ask the DR to put them "asleep" before stopping their heart. I cannot bear it any other way, so they administer sedation, then general anesthesia then when I am ready, the injection that stops the heart and my boys pass peacefully in my arms while I sob my heart out. They are cremated in a private cremation and I have the ashes.

I've already mapped out in my mind what I will tell Nash. He has NO fear of the vet, never had, he has always been our "adventurer", see everything in life as an adventure, he's not the fearful nervous type, so calm and brave he is. He is such a sweetheart and so easy going that everyone who met him wanted to take him home. If he was a person, he'd be very popular.

Every time I leave the house, I'd put everyone in their crates, which are stuffed with baby blankets and pillow pals so we call them their beds, and as I walk out the door, I say, "I'll be back, Mommy loves you." And I always said this anytime I had to leave them at a hospital or on occasion a groomer. I did most of the grooming but once in a while I'd take them to one if I was too tired. But always, "I'll be back, Mommy loves you." And they understand those words. Austin almost died from his bladder rupture, he got very depressed so the vet had me come in and visit. I held him in my arms while he was hooked to IV and we talked. I hugged and cuddled him, then when I left, I said those words. The next day, the vet called and said he'd made a major turn and to come get him, he was driving everyone crazy with his loud howling! Ohhh what happy reunions Austin and I had!

When Nash's time comes, I'm going to tell him, "Nash, this nice doctor is going to give you some medicine that will make you fall asleep and when you wake up, you'll be with your brother Crocket at the Rainbow Bridge, and you'll see Tee Bone, Winky (he and Wink were great friends) and Austin again. Please tell them all I miss them, give them my love and wait for me. Until we meet again my friend...you'll always be in my heart. Mommy loves you."

Susan Zoe Bella

Author of Rainbows Hearts and Puppy Tales

We had to put our 14 year old cat Victor down today, I'm utterly heartbroken .. I thought I would have been ok with it because he was older and suffering, not the case..it was the most difficult decision I have had to make in quite some time. All I know is that We will miss him and I tried everything I could. :'(

I am sitting here now, crying as I read your post. My beloved Nib, almost 15, is likely passing. I say "likely" as denial is helping me get through this. He is anemic, his spleen is enlarged, and he doesn't want food, only water. Yet, when speak to him, he replies. When I stroke him, he purrs. He has no trouble moving back and forth between sofa and fireplace. Yet, it seems too soon. It is always too soon.

just said goodbye to my amazing dog, Daisy.. hemangiosarcoma.. the call was made, but of course she had to decide to go earlier and started a bleed, she didn't make that darned 1:30 appt.. on the 11th.. I am bereft and feel so sad.. she became my focus when my sons went off to college.. the best little danged cocker spaniel ever.. I too thought I would be happy without meds, yeast and ear infections, but I miss her terribly.. funny that.. Hope she is chasing squirrels somewhere.. miss her.

 its 2pm where i live. at 4, im taking her across the street to the vet for her final journey. 

this cat was (ahem... is) still much more than just a cat to me. she really is my best friend. she is a family member who i hold closer to heart than 80% of my actual family.

since day one, she never did any wrong. she only gave love. she never hissed at anyone. she never ate someones food. she never wanted treats or catnip. the only thing she ever wanted was affection and ive given her more than most people could ever give an animal.

shes 15 now and about a week or so ago she stopped eating and drinking. her hips were already going which made it hard for her to walk. up until today i could nurse her a little bit of water here and there, but today, she wont have any of it.

within the past month or 2 ive felt a sense of her dwindling, so i would be with her as much as possible. i would sleep with her whenever i could. recently she started hiding in the bathroom when she went to sleep. maybe embarrassed to die in front of me? This didnt change my mind at all. i set up a blanket on the bathroom floor and i would join her despite bathroom tile being an incredibly unpleasant surface to sleep on, i was there with her.

ive pretty much been crying for a week straight. i cant help it. before this happened i honestly couldnt tell you when the last time i cried was. years for sure and for what reason? i dont know. 

1 hour and 45 minutes remains in her life now and im sitting beside her; watching her gasp for air, too weak to hold her head up. urinating on herself without the strength to move. this is hard. i want her to be out of pain, but i have no idea what im going to do when shes gone. shes always been here... somewhere. my house, my heart, my mind. i will always have a sense of emptyness without her.

last night i slept with her. both our heads sharing the same pillow while looking into each others eyes. several times i woke up throughout the night to see if she was still breathing because she already looked so dead. there was still a little life left.

1 hour and 40 minutes remains.

i came across this article because i simply googled "saying goodbye to a cat" looking for some kind of help, because at this moment, ive never felt more helpless in my life. i know im helping her, but the pain in my heart is incredible. 

i guess telling you all (whoever might read this) my story is the help i was looking for. i needed to vent, but cant do this in person as id probably lose my voice in the first sentence. im a 33 year old man about to lose his best friend and i dont know what else to say other than cherish every moment you have with your pets. there is something to be said about an inter-species relationship. in many ways the bond formed is much stronger than it could be with another human... different, but still strong nonetheless. 

if youve read my story probably filled with type-o's and punctuation errors, i thank you for hearing my voice and my story.

im going to lie down with buckshot one last time. 

My 11 year old baby is suffering and we have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow. I've never faced anything so painful and difficult in my whole life. I love you so much, Autumn.

(Part 4-Final) My cat will decide for himself if he wants to fight or to die and if he were to die, he will choose to die at his own time, not mine. But if he were to fight, I will stand by him like a father to his son to the best of my abilities defending against all transgression that may come from anywhere including pet solidarities or self-righteous pet owners.

Euthanasia? Not in a million years. My cat deserves the respect to conform himself to nature.

(Part 3)Then, I started watching online documentaries on cats from various establishments on one hand to learn more about our feline friends and on the other hand subtlely finding the answer to this troubling question of how to end my cat’s life should the time come for it. ‘The Secret life of Cats’ by BBC was the revelation.

Cats are wild by nature. They live their lives like the rest of the felines like lions and cheetahs. They hunt for a living and defend their territory by intimidation and fights often resulting in maggots festering wounds if not tended to. They fall ill and they die like any other animals. Cats are also living things who yearn to survive despite the adversity they have to live with throughout their lifetime. And so, who are we to decide when the cat lives or dies? Do we go around euthanizing lions and tigers we see struggling with old age? Who are we to decide if our cat should be euthanized in order to avoid according to our benchmark, a ‘painful death’? If it is indeed a painful death, many cats would’ve been subjucated to this ‘excruciating naturality’ designed by the rules of the animal kingdom. And therefore the golden question: Who are we to play God?...

(Part 2)

His persistence in getting me to wake every morning, staring into my eyes before looking away with his utterly adorable face, singing his usual cat song and helping me deal with the detestable cockroaches that come by occasionally. All these while, he fills me with unrivalled entertainment, a reason why I should come home as much as possible. I miss him everytime I go overseas for work and always pesters my girlfriend for my son’s picture. When he’s lethargic from a day’s activity, he lies down on the sofa sometimes next to me beguiling me with his natural feline demeanour even when he’s sleepy. I feel like a real father holding him in my embrace kissing his hairy cheeks sometimes to his irritation. But it didn’t bother me for through him, I find my life on earth complete. He is very often regarded as a God send, my prayers answered.

Then the thought of him departing due to old age dawns upon me. I shudder to think of being confronted with the choice of euthanizing my son, the little cat I brought home, who filled my life with purpose, gave me a reason why I am complete. I started to search for answers to this dilemma online, through the bible and moralities amongst fellow pet owners..

(Part 1)I have a cat who is coming to 2 years old in the next 3 months. Rescued from another cat owner who was running out of options rehousing her own cat’s latest litter, I brought him home. Barely 8 weeks out of his mother’s womb, he was mewing endlessly probably frightened by the journey he has never experienced while my girlfriend held the box holding him hushing him like how she would to a newborn baby. The 40km journey from the East where he was born to the West of the island seemingly short for us humans but a world different from the universe he has got himself accustomed to.

For the next few weeks, we litter box trained our new baby and he started showing his affections for us as we fed him his favourite food. He has this marvelous appetite for tuna and we spoilt him with the best type of cat food the pet stores could sell. I even travelled 350km North into the next country searching for better cat food in a much larger pet store. Coming home with great anticipation for my baby’s response on the latest cat food I got him. The joy of seeing him accepting the cat food fills me with pride. Bordering on arrogance, I couldn’t stop telling my girlfriend that I know our baby well.

I learnt to cook omelettes with water, oven bake fish fillet, prawns and chicken without the spices. My son simply adores the feline gourmet I showered upon him...

My beautiful cream blue point Himalayan, Bonnie Blue, passed away Tuesday, May 28.  I am heartbroken.  She was "love in a fur coat", the most precious little cat.  I love her so much.  And she loved me.  I feel guilty that I didn't realize she was sick earlier and taken her to the vet.  When I did realize, the vet did everything she could for her.  I fed her with a little syringe and gave her medicine.  I took her back to the vet to receive more fluids a few days later, but she died on the table right after we got there.  I feel so bad...she didn't want to go to the vet and she fought me.  If I hadn't taken her, she would have died peacefully at home, instead of there, where she didn't want to be.  I have to believe I will see her in Heaven, or I just can't bear it.

My lovely cat Sophie was put to sleep 2 weeks ago, I am absolutely devastated and miss her so much. She was 13 years of age, and up to a few weeks ago was a fit and playful Tabby. My regular vet firstly mis-diagnosed a stomach infection and later a food intolerance. She was put on medication and a different diet but got poorly very quickly. I was forced to take her to an out of hours emergency vet, this vet  felt a large mass in her stomach and thought it kinder that she was put to sleep right away, rather than put her through lots of procedures. I now feel guilty that I should have given her more of a chance, though at the time it seemed the kindest thing to do.

My grief is unbearable, she was my shadow, she was always waiting for me behind the front door when I came home, she sat next to me wherever I sat, she even sat next to me on my computer chair. She made playful talking noises to me every time I looked at her, she was with me last thing at night and first thing in the morning.

I have just had her ashes returned to me, they are in a casket in front of me now, they are filling me with all sorts of emotions, I'm not sure if I can bear to keep them here, but I really felt that I had to have her back home with me again and I hadn't abandoned her!

I've lost pets before and felt grief, but never the same as this; it's probably because Sophie was a rescue cat who was very small, timid and vulnerable. When I first saw her she looked at me so lovingly I couldn't resist her.

I'm thinking of her constantly, and still keep expecting her to appear and ''talk' to me. We  do have another cat, who I also so love, but she is more independent and aloof.

Goodbye Sophie

My cat Annie died on Jan 31 this year. She was also born in  1992 in the month of May is my best guess. In human years she was nearing 100. Found her running along side the highway after someone a few cars ahead of me moved her out of the road and into the grassy border. She would have been killed. She had no fear - never did. We did hospice at my house for 1o days for her. On the morning of the 11th day I took her in to the vet's office. It went so fast. They didn't tell me what was happening. Annie was so weak but would not eat or drink that last morning. Her back legs had given out 10 days before due to her kidney failure. I still sometimes see her wide eyes staring ahead - the way she died. And it haunts me. I know from all I read and was told that she would have started having seizures and I did not want that. I tried to give her a peaceful death. Still not sure I succeeded, but I tried. 

This is such a touching account of your experience in saying farewell to Rosie. Many people don't "get it" about how painful that experience is until they are faced with it. That's when the reality of one's connection with the animal is felt most acutely.  I see that you loved Rosie more than you knew.  She had her own facebook page, after all ~ most kitties don't even get computer time! :-) 

I am grateful to know that Rosie found her way to your family. She knew what she was doing when she decided to move in and make the place her own.  She knew how much she meant to you before you did. She knew that the only way you would learn about this new level of love in the most sorrowful way possible: in your final moments together. 

Bless you for loving her so well, and for opening your hearts and home to her.  You have done well.

We lost a member of our family... Merlin.

I had this feline creature named Boyoyang, a mix siamese native cat. She had two cousins and an uncle which are all siamese cats but their other siblings were not and they had one character i observed: they are all affectionate. These three were all gone a couple of years ago and this Boyoyang was the only one left.I noticed her being weak in health and her reflexes are not like the other cats' specially when falling. She expresses innocence and peace when she sleeps. She had a good life. She was an example of courage and beauty.

Until one time, she accidentally fell from our stairs when she was 5 months old. Since then, she experienced seizures and even bit her sides whenever the attack occurs. I observed she does not want anyone to touch her back on the spine area or else she will get seizures. She easily gets sick when it gets cold. I have to give her oral medication after meals and after two to five days she gets well. She easily gets skin infection so i have to give her medicated powder on her fur. For the past 6 years her situation had been like this but I could always see in her the will and the spirit to survive.

She had a fall again and this time it was fatal.  After the day she fell, i noticed that when she drinks water, she vomits afterwards. Immediately, she felt ill and did not want to eat or drink. I held her and brought her to the garden where she used to sun herself. I tried giving her water to drink but she refused. I knew it she was waiting for her time and that she was ready to give it up. I called her name one last time until she breathed her last. I wrapped her with a pink towel and placed her on a box. On her grave, under the acacia tree on our garden, was a cheese sandwich, a pack of dog food her favorite, some crackers and flowers.

On that very day I really wanted her to feel that I have been with her and will always be. And at this very moment i still feel heavy, teary-eyed remembering her how she makes my day.

 I terribly miss her. She is gone but she is in Heaven.

At least u guys have a vet where u all live the vet is only in my hometown once every now and then. The only way to but down injured animals is to shoot them. I know that sounds cruel but when my dog was bleeding to death from internal injuries from eating a chicken carcass (she had figured out how to open doors that where cracked open partly) the only thing we could do that was humane was to shoot and kill her or let her bleed out for hours.

My life has been filled with many animals coming in and out of my life.  I grew up on a farm and had dogs and cats for as long as I can remember.  So I have a lot of good byes.  

My most surprising upset was when I took over the care of a friend's elderly cat. He just couldn't handle him anymore and it turned out the cat was Much older than thought and was showing signs of dementia.  He lasted a year with me and I took him to the vet for euthanasia Many times.  He perked right up each time.  The day that was THE day was HORRIBLE!  That was the hardest day of my life.  Until Maizy.

Maizy was my Catahoula Leopard Dog.  She was my High School Graduation present and my best friend in all the world.  My folks cared for her while I was in college, but when I was able, I took her to live with me.  Had to fight them for her!  But from that point on she was there for me for all my highs and lows.  And she was the Best foster mom to countless litters of kittens and even adult cats.  I have so many precious stories of her being so good to orphaned cats.

She lived to 15 1/2.  She had Chronic Renal Failure and hip displaysia.  Once the CRF cropped up, I supplimented her vet care holistically and she was granted another year of life with me.  In the end, it was her arthritis, not her CRF that got her.  She fell often, but always got back up.  Sometimes she needed help getting up, but once she was up, she was fine.  One day she wasn't.  I saw all the fight leave her eyes.  I saw fear in her courageous face for the first time ever.  This dog, who would walk through fire and brave kicking horses to protect me was afraid.  That's when I knew it was time.

She was able to walk to the exam room from the car, but once we go in that room, she put her head in my lap and looked up at me.  I told her I was so sorry.  I had hoped she would just go to sleep one day and not wake up, but I didn't want her to suffer anymore.  She didn't need to fight so hard and be in pain.  I'd be ok.  I kissed her on the nose.  She sighed.  Then she went to the bed on the exam room floor and laid down and never got back up.  She was instantly weak and much smaller looking.  The vet came in and checked her over and agreed that it was indeed time.  And with the prick of a couple of needles she was gone.

Two years later I still miss her terribly.  I have another dog.  He's my buddy in a different way than she was.  She will always be my Precious.  And she has a special place in my home where her ashes rest with her food bowl and leash and photographs of her as a puppy.

Writing from me husband's account:

Dear Marc,

My husband presented your article to me 1 day after I put my cat down and I immediately related to the pain you felt with Rosie.  Eldridge, a 20- year old Bombay cat, was literally a part of my entire day.  A friend found Eldridge, a very small kitten, living in New York City apparently left alone.  Knowing that we were cat lovers she brought him to our house where he lived under our couch for a few weeks before slowly entering our lives and becoming my constant companion.

Eldridge lived a wonderful 20 years.  We all loved him very much but he was my cat.   At the end of the day if he hadn’t seen me he was quite chatty. I generally sat, listened and talked to him about my day.  On the day we had Eldridge put down I told my husband that I no longer had a friend to discuss those moments when I thought he(my husband) was being an a pain in the ass. 

  He had feline aids from fighting a feral cat years earlier, but did not show any signs  of  illness until 2 months ago.  After a visit to the vet in December I was told many of his organs were shutting down.  His stomach was distended and it was just a matter of time.  I was given medication for some of his ailments.  I’m not sure who was in more distress trying to give him the pills, him or me.  He was not the same exuberant cat but he still chatted with me, was hungry twice a day and was able to move about.  Within a few weeks I had water bowls upstairs in my room as well as cat treats.  I went through a similar kitty liter ordeal working each day to find a method that would allow him to keep his dignity.  It was difficult and I was washing him and the floors frequently.  A friend of mine who is a Vet said he couldn’t tell me when I should put Eldridge down but I would know when it was time.

 Many days I wondered if I kept him alive for my own selfish reasons, I wasn’t ready to be without him.  Last Wednesday I noticed that his breathing had changed, it was becoming labored.  I struggled all day to make an appointment with the vet being fully aware that it had to be done.

  My last day with Eldridge was a perfectly quiet day.  I spent much time with him, as he sat on my chest, stroking his back.  When it was time to go I wrapped him in a blanket and he quietly sat on my lap for the 5-minute ride to the vet.  My husband and my oldest daughter Alden, who was born 5 months before Eldridge joined our family, came with me.  By this time I was sobbing and having a hard time feeling steady on my feet.  I was about to lose an endearing companion who had helped me get through severely difficult times in my life and always a part of the wonderful times.  We went through the same procedure that you discussed in your article.  Eldridge burying his head in my chest moments before the first injection was simply saying goodbye to me and that everything was ok.   .   He lay on my arm and I believe moments after the first injection he had died.  They gave him the second injection a few minutes later and shortly after that the Vet said he was gone.

I knew the difficulties of letting him go would be tremendous.  Physically he is gone but my memories of him keep him alive in my heart.  My kids and my husband framed a picture of Eldridge and put it on my bedside table.  Terence, my husband wrote me a card as if Eldridge wrote it, thanking me for loving him and that he completely loved being in my life.  My daughter Selby got a black mug, drew a cat on, baked it and I now have a beautiful coffee mug with a cat on it. 

I must tell you that writing this has been the most cathartic experience.  I am truly grateful for your article, it came at a perfect moment in my life.  I know the importance of sharing difficult situations with others and by doing so lessening the pain.  Thank you for that.

I read this article yesterday and this morning my sister's terrapin passed away. Although it was her pet she spent so much time and effort on it that all of us were involved in her emotional ups and downs as the pet fell ill, got hospitalized and subsequently passed on. It may have been a terrapin (means no furry cuteness and no running all over the house) but in many ways he brought my sister up - she had him since she was 6 and shes now 16. He taught her valuable lessons about responsibility and love, and for that, I will always be grateful to him. Goodbye Rex. RIP! <3

As I look at all the pets we have at home, i feel dreadful of that day...

I have been looking through the comments and see that most of them are about putting an animal to sleep. Mine is kinda different. 

This is a touching story and it reminded me about the time I lost my bunny rider.S/he (never became old enough to find out wether it was a boy or girl.) had been taken to my school one day along with other bunnies and the kids were being really rough with them. A few days later we notice rider was getting really skinny we just thought that we hadn't been giving her enough food. Then we noticed she wasn't eating and then we thought that her fato sister was eating all the food. Then on one friday last year after school me and my sister went outside to take care of the rabbits and found rider shivering in a corner. We brought her inside and tried to feed her condensed milk. we then saw that her top teeth had been dug into her bottom jaw. All I did was sit on the couch and cry all day. Then out of no where at about 6:00 rider started flipping out. When s/he stopped I looked at rider. S/he was completely limp and looked like a doll. I knew she was dead. Starved to death, my little baby bunny. We found a place to bury it under a willow tree in the front yard. A few months later I went to it's grave and noticed a little tree growing right were I buried Him/her. Now, once every week I go to it's grave and tend to the tree plus pray and hope that everything will be alright.

What a beautiful cat your Rosie was!

I read this while my 5-month-old kitten dozed in his bed next to the monitor. I know that however long time is, someday it will end.

I grew up with a large and intelligent cat named Olympia, an indoor-outdoor type with a Siamese yowl, who understood about a dozen words, and who was fiercely devoted to my mom. But when he was 14, his sight began to fail. At 16, he was senile and incontinent, too. Mom and Dad confined him to their uninsulated breezeway, and on nice days would put a harness on him, leashed to a stake, so he could doze happily in the sunlit yard without fear that he would wander off. When winter came, they knew it would be cruel to force him to deal with the cold. Mom held him and comforted him as the vet put the needle in.

It was the right thing, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard, and all of us were sobbing that day.

They're only animals: to treat them as humans is an insult to their nature. But that doesn't mean they don't comfort us. That doesn't mean they're not important, or unworthy of our love. Olympia was a remarkable cat. I'll never forget him. I hope my new little guy, Jules will enjoy the life I give him, as I enjoy his time with me.

Putting my little dog down yesterday was the hardest thing I've ever done. The vet, who came to my house, assured me that it was a gift to her failing, seventeen-and-a-half-year-old body. I knew that, of course, but all I could think of was that I had failed her, that even with all my ministrations to her over the past few years, I had screwed up. Done the wrong thing here and there. Things that weren't apparent before suddenly became clear. Oh my God, why didn't I think to do this, why didn't I think to do that. That is my grief. That she may have suffered from something left out, or done differently. I wonder how many pet owners go through this, beating themselves up because they loved their animal so much and can't bear the thought that even with all that love, they didn't think or know to do one or two things that might have made a difference to their pet's comfort.

I steeled myself for the moment and did not cry. A few hours afterward, I drove Rachel to the crematory site, at the home of an animal-loving woman who started her business after she was unhappy with how her own beloved dog's remains were handled. I did not cry and was glad to see another dog there, wrapped in a blanket, still warm. His name was Emmett. Rachel would not be alone. I asked him to watch over her. On the long drive back home, in a silent car, numb, my thoughts raced over the last few days, the last months, the last years. What signs should I have looked for, what signs did I stupidly ignore. Was my focus so much on one thing that I missed other obvious ones? Still no tears, just self-flagellation.

A friend of Rachel's and mine called and repeated what he had said earlier. You will wail, he said, it's a good thing, a necessary release. What he had done immediately after his own dog had been euthanized. No, no, no, I said. Not now. I'm busy concentrating on everything I did wrong. Was up most of the night trying to find a song on YouTube that well reflected what Rachel was and what she meant to me. A few stray tears. Got involved in the songs. At four in the morning I went to bed; no Rachel to take care of or sleep next to me. As I was lying there, it started. Grief. Loud, primitive, roaring. I had the luxury of being alone, no one by, in a pine woods in Maine. Totally alone, without Rachel, and I let loose.

euthanizing a love all our own is the worst experience I´ve gone through! 

This certainly has brought back my experience with euthanizing my gray tabby, Sebastian, many years ago. You couldn't have described it any better. Thank you.

oh my god, I couldn't finish this story really. so touching.

This article, this blog can choke you up.  Pet owners can relate to this.

This story really touched me.  Thank you Mr. Silver.  Thank you also for inviting us to share, because doing so is healing. 

My husband and I euthanized our beloved German Shepherd Eve just a few weeks ago.  She was a rescue who had spent her first five years being used for breeding.  When she developed a tumor on one of her teats, they dropped her off at the pound instead of going through the expense of treating her.  I love GS dogs and had lost one a year previously, so my husband went and brought her home for me as a surprise.  The first tumor had been benign; how glad we were that her original owners didn't bother to find out, because we had her for five lovely years during which she never had another puppy (since they spay every animal at the shelter).  She was my friend, my shadow,  my unstinting guardian all that time. 

She had a second benign tumor some years later.  Unfortunately the third one, in her mouth and sinuses, wasn't benign.  She deteriorated very quickly from this aggressive cancer, which we at first treated as a sinus infection, and within just three weeks it became clear we could not let her go on.  The suddenness was stunning; there was no choice as to what to do.  She could not breathe except in certain positions, and she began bleeding from her mouth and nose.  So as you say, the decision itself was not difficult; it was a definite mercy.  The vet who did the procedure was as kind, gentle and efficient as anyone could be, and let us sit with her for as long as necessary afterward.   

If you've had pets since childhood, as we have, you think you have learned how to let them go.  But when she was gone in my arms I felt as if my heart was ripped from my chest.  For the first time in a lifetime of having pets I thought "I cannot do this ever again;"  "this" being invite an animal into my heart and then have to let them go.

"Terms of Endearment" I would tell myself at previous times.  Or, I would recall the vet who came to our house to put my first GS dog down, who said "This is the last best thing you can do for him."  Or I would read the Rainbow Bridge.  Or I would picture the animal in my mind and send them love or sometimes just feel their spirit still with me.  We would always go out very soon after to adopt another pet, telling ourselves that the lost one was making room for the next one to be saved, congratulating ourselves on having given one a good life for as long as we could and now doing the same for another.   

But losing Eve has been so difficult that these thoughts have only slowly begun to help, and I know it will be some years before I look for another German Shepherd to take her place.  Replacing her is not an option; I must grieve and remember.

I  agree with Amy Lynn Hunt that part of the problem is not having a ritual around such losses.  I am lucky to have friends who understand, sent cards, and talked with us, and a veterinarian who helped not only with her skill but with her compassion before, during and after.  I am so glad to read that there are vets and others who are working on pet hospice!  (Amy, may I say that being there, while difficult, is doing "the last best thing" and I believe that animals who are ready to go take comfort from your presence.  As many have said, often you know it is time and as Marc said, in some way they give you permission, or even ask.  There is a closure to it that I would not want to miss.)

Still, when our doctor called to say that Eve's remains were ready to be picked up, that she could go home where she belonged, I lost it again...

My cat Sprite died in my arms this past Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. We had taken her to the vet the afternoon before, but she didn't think she was "ready" yet, though she had stopped eating and was extremely anemic. She started having trouble breathing at 2:00 a.m. and the next three hours were the hardest I've ever been through with any living creature, including the death of my parents, since they were unaware of their surroundings at their deaths. Sprite was scared, but she finally decided to trust me, let me ease her out of this life by holding her close until her poor tired heart just couldn't make another beat. Our house is so empty now. We had her as part of our lives for 15 years and it won't be the same without her here. I wish we had gone ahead with the vet the day before; my gut told me it was the right thing to do. It's so hard to let go and I wanted to believe she had a few more good days left. She wasn't "just a cat". She was family.

I have always felt like part of why it so hard is that there is no "ceremony", none of the things we do while still in a haze of disbelief that the beloved is actually gone. We have no funeral. No one sends condolence cards. No one... makes you dinner and comes to hug you and talk about the memories of your loved one. Because "it's just a cat". But they aren't - they aren't "just" anything! They're special and they are family - we give them our last names, like the author of the article above did!

I think things are changing though. People are becoming so much more open about how our "fur babies", as one of my former teachers says, really are part of our families. We see them every day, sometimes more than the humans in our lives. They ask for so little, but give so much.

All of that said - i have never been strong enough to be there at the very end. My Mom always has. I have been asked by them to make the decision  twice, but i have never with them, I kissed them & thanked them for loving me, us.  I know eventually i will have to do it. I dread it so much. But for now, i am so happy with my kitty girls and whisper, "live as long as you can" into my Mom's  20-year old's big ears, for she really is part of Mom's heart. I have no idea how to finish this, but yes, grieve them. And don't ever ever feel "weird" about missing them or being sad . It woudl feel weirder to just stop loving - we're not built to do that.

The most difficult thing I ever recall having to do.  I buried two parents and putting my pup to sleep due to cancer was like saying goodbye to your child.  I did it at the vets and alone.  I held him in my arms as the restraint was released, allowing the drug to flow from his foreleg into the body, and he slumped into my arms.  In less than a minute his heart stopped beating and I thought mine might as well.  It was late evening and the doc gave me a few minutes to blubber like a baby.  I remember him coming back into the room and then leaving again say, well maybe a bit more.

On December 30th last year we scheduled the vet to come to our home to euthanize our little cat Selkie. We didn't know exactly how old she was (best guess was 20-22 years), but we knew it was time, as she had stopped eating and was obviously at her end.  Selkie was a rescue that had survived a BB shot (still in her leg) and a litter of kittens many years before.  She was the sweetest, gentlest cat that my wife and I had ever known.  Knowing it was in her best interest didn't make it any easier to say goodbye when the time came.  In ten minutes it was over, and the vet took her away for us to be cremated as we sat and cried.

Two hours later I received word that my mother had a massive heart attack, and just like that, was gone.  After surviving three horrific surgeries for tongue cancer removal and reconstruction two months earlier, she was in the final two weeks of her radiation treatment.  We imagined many ways that her disease might take her from us, but none of us saw this one coming.

Fast forward two weeks.  We were just beginning to overcome the shock and depression from losing two dear loved ones.  The alarm went off on the morning of January 17th, and it seemed like any other work day.  As usual, another one of our cats Guinness was curled up underneath my neck sleeping when the alarm sounded, and Guinness bounded out of bed like usual, ready for breakfast.  Guinness was 13, and though anyone who saw him would think him to be the epitome of health, he had a heart condition (essentially, cat atrial fibrillation) that we were aware of, and treating with medications.

Before I could get out of bed, I could hear one of our cats making flopping noises on the floor that instinctively told me something was wrong.  There was Guinness, and he had lost the use of his back legs.  

In 10 minutes I had dressed and had him out the door on the way to the emergency vet.  The diagnosis was quickly forthcoming: Guinness had developed a blood clot (an all too common event with humans and animals with Afib) that had blocked the blood flow to his legs.  It was inoperable and untreatable with medication, and I had no choice but to have him euthanized as he lay in my lap looking up at me.  An hour earlier the world was feeling as though it was starting to return to normal, and now Guinness was gone too. 

Go home tonight and let your spouse, your kids, your pets, and anyone else you love know about that love you harbor.  Make it a goal to never go to bed leaving any loving thought unsaid, and give those pets who give you there unconditional love a hug that is just a little bit longer, and a little bit tighter.  They will understand.

Sending a beloved pet to heaven is heart wrenching. It took me several years before I could accept the loss of my Kit-Kit kitty. He was with me for many years, through good times and bad. Writing several short stories about Kit-Kit's life helped me to accept his loss. The last story being Kit-Kit's Dream: http://voices.yahoo.com/kitkits-dream-4671227.html?cat=7

My Rufus looked like a huge Rosie. He loved everybody and every cat (I had 4 others). I taught him to "sit up pretty" for treats. He had his own language and we would "talk". He walked up to our house one winter at the age of 8mos, very sick with FUS and respiratory problems. We nursed him back to health in the garage with a heater. At the age of 18yrs, he stopped eating and couldn't keep anything down. I got a quick education in holistic food and kept him going another year adding fresh turkey. Blood tests revealed he needed a specialist. A week before Christmas they probed his belly for signs of cancer..but $1200 later I had no answers. I took him home and his appetite had been artificially stimulated. He had his fresh turkey, and I went to work. When I returned, he had thrown up his dinner with blood everywhere and was unconscious. Rushing back to the VCA hospital, he was put on an IV and was his old self. The vet sat me down and said, "sometimes we know the story but don't know the name of the book." That was his way of telling me Rufus should not go home. We had quality time in a special room for goodbyes, and Rufus was checking out everything, purring up a storm. I had to see him this way, just like any normal day, happy and handsome. He went to sleep beside me for the last time. I know he is in my house in Heaven and we will again "sit up pretty."

I’m sorry for your loss, and can certainly relate. I’ve had several cats over the years and have had to euthanize a few. The toughest was this past September, our lovely sweetie Ella. She had inoperable cancer, and lasted about three months with mostly palliative care. One of my biggest fears was that I wouldn’t know when it was time. A friend who’s a vet upstate said 98% of her patients know; 1% rush it, and the other 1% need a push. We had a great and supportive vet, who told me towards the beginning of the process to think about the six top things that make her life worthwhile. When half of them are gone, it’s time to start thinking about bringing her in. (Or bringing in a vet: Thank you Lapoflove.com, though I hope I have no need for it any time soon.) That was worthwhile advice, though when it came time, it was very obvious (overnight, her back half became paralyzed). Our usual vet wasn’t there, but actually offered to come in! We told her not to, and the incredibly caring vet who administered the drugs was pretty choked up herself.

One other comment: It’s interesting that Rosie and Molly, both orange cats, were female. I don’t know the numbers, but always heard that it was as unusual as male calicos.

my cat, chester, died of natural old age, he went downhill in one week. we didn't even have to euthanize him; he was strong exactly up to one week before, then he got week and on the last two days were the only days he started to suffer. he died on his cat blanket on my bed; i held his paw. he just went to sleep, and then, for a minute that felt like forever, he convulsed and his pupils dilated, eyes wide open, silently gasping, and was gone. hardest thing to do as a 16 year old. i've seen alot of death since then, seen people die in the exact same manner, but never felt what i felt after chester died.

My wife's cat, Bo, and I had a love-hate marriage for the entire 10 years I knew her.  We both loved her, but 'hated' each other.  Really we just fought for her attention.  When I'd be home alone, Bo would sit on my lap at my desk or lay stretched out on the couch beside me.  When my wife came home, Bo would run to her and act like I beat her all day, hiding whenever I came near.  

When her liver started to go, we did everything to save that cat.  I force fed her high protein cat food for 2 weeks.  Holly needed her to make it through Christmas, which she did.  2 days later the vet recommended us to give up.    We took here to the vet on my birthday, and all three of us sat huddled in the corner of the waiting room, crying.  When the doctor came, we held her paw until it was over (she was terrified of the vet's office).  

Putting down that cat was the single worst feeling I've had.  Humans at least understand that they will die.  But an animal wholly depends on you and doesn't possess the capacity to understand why you took her to the place that she's most scared of, only to never go home.  It's a feeling that sticks with you for a long time.

RequiesCAT in pace.

unlike you, I had an absolute understanding of how much my basset mix Darlin meant to me.  she was with me through the hardest times of my life.  she literally saved me.  she had cancer for 2 years, so i was very prepared for what was to come.  but then, like you, i was still surprised at the depth of my grief.  and even after the immediate sense of loss had passed, i cried just as hard (i'm talking sobbing, wailing, deep from my belly cries), not because i'd lost her, but because of how much i love her.  that's the thing about loss, it makes you realize how much you love.  

a good friend and animal doctor/healer once told me that when humans and animals entered into a domestic relationship they made an agreement.  we would support them in life as well as in death, and we would preserve their dignity.  i always remembered that with darlin.  i had a responsibility to help her die with dignity, and when she couldn't do it on her own i helped her. one night she was uncomfortable and the usual medicines weren't helping.  she spent an hour outside, then came in, laid on the kitchen floor and peed in a puddle without getting up.  that's when i knew it was time.  i had to preserve her dignity and help her to be released from pain.  i still miss her and sometimes feel her with me, in my heart.  i love that dog.

What a touching story! It reminds me the many pets that I have loved through my whole life. They become more than friends, but part of the family. Thank you for sharing this with us, the readers.

I'm so sorry. I am facing this today, in fact, with our old cat Salmon. I am heartbroken.

I too shed a few tears reading this lovely story. Sorry Marc...but take comfort in knowing that Rosie has now touched our hearts as well.   In the past four years I've lost both a cat and a dog. Our golden retriever Hannah and our tabby Lily were our sixth and seventh children. Our grown kids have wonderful stories to tell about both pets which are repeated over and over again at most of our holiday gatherings.  We all laugh when our son Alec reminds us of his favorite "Lily" tale....On a visit to Ny. one summer we were driving with all five children and our cat. The kids took Lily out of her carrier to take turns having her on their lap. Having been passed around several times Lily grew restless and wanted to jump up on the front dash of our van. Alec who was sitting in the front passenger seat couldn't be more pleased since "he" was now having most of the cats attention. Lily suddenly began to Howl which made the kids laugh until suddenly she began to cough and I knew too late, what was about to happen!  Just as we reach the terminal at JFK ..Lily gets sick!  Big time sick, which ended up all over my son, myself, and into the back seat as she tried to run from the chaos up front!  The skycap opened the passenger door to the sound of screams and hysterical fits of laughter!  It was a nightmare and to make matters worse I was letting them out so I could go park our car!  How did I know that cats get car sick? And poor Alec,  upon his return to school told me , "mom, every time I unzip my backpack, I see pieces of cat food" can you please buy me a new one?LOL!  We loved our Lily, we miss her too but we'll always have her stories. 

@Janice Zilm  

Hi Janice

I know what you are going through, I lost my beautiful Sophie a few weeks ago (see below) , and I still feel totally heartbroken! I sometimes think that some of the pain has subsided until something triggers a memory of her, I just burst into tears and feel utterly miserable.

I now have Sophie's ashes back home with me which gives me some comfort, I have to believe I will see her again too.

Take care

Chris

Hi Mimi and all the others who have commented.  I too felt a lot of  guilt when I had my kitty Ed put to sleep on Dec 31 last year.  I felt like I should have done more, that somehow I could have found a way to make him better, in spite of how ill the vet said he was.  I found an article on the Rainbow Bridge website that really helped me and maybe you will find some comfort in it too.  It is called "Defining Quality of Life" by Moira Anderson Allen, M.Ed.  I miss my Ed so much. 

@Don Hills I understand your loss and you are correct about letting those you love, even your pets, know you love them. The words, "I'm sorry for your loss" seem so inadequate, but they do come from the heart.

@lydia jane "...and even after the immediate sense of loss had passed, i cried just as hard (i'm talking sobbing, wailing, deep from my belly cries), not because i'd lost her, but because of how much i love her."

Brilliant. You said it perfectly. Thank you.

@Marc Silver You made me cry again, not only for your loss, but also for mine. It is good to cry and its good to remember the good times. Emotion is good. In this computerized, social media world where we live, its good to know there are others out there that experience real emotion over the loss of a dear furry friend.

@Marc SilverThis has me in tears. I have a 13 year old Pyrenees that is pretty much in end of life stage--quality versus quantity of life at this point. I put my 19 year old cat down last March--Emma. Of all of my pets, losing her hurt the worst, which surprised me the most. I still miss her. Reading your lovely piece was like a tribute in a way to her memory and upcoming anniversary. Thank you for this. It was honestly written and beautifully said.