A peaceful, caring goodbye

Several years ago I had to euthanize a dog that was seized during a criminal investigation. The dog was extremely aggressive, chained in a yard and unable to be handled. After several attempts at sedation, the dog was brought to the clinic muzzled but still fighting. As we started the euthanasia, I was rubbing his shoulder and talking to him when he began to wag his tail. I will never know what his life was like before that moment, but I imagine he may have seen the worst of what people can do to each other and to the animals they should care for. Would his death be the time when we could show him the love and kindness he deserved throughout his life? I decided then that I would do euthanasia well.

In the past, if an animal was afraid, I would sedate, and we would do house call euthanasia whenever possible, wherein any and all family members could be present and the time it took to do this final appointment would not matter. Euthanasia has changed so much over my career as a veterinarian. When I graduated we never allowed owners to be present for the procedure. I still remember families saying goodbye and hugging their pets in parking lots and on the backs of trucks. I now do as many house call euthanasias as I do in clinic and almost all owners elect to stay with their pet.

How do veterinarians walk into rooms and onto farmyards time and time again to perform a procedure that for most people is unimaginable? How do we make sense of euthanizing the animals that we love so much and dedicate our lives trying to treat and cure? How do we provide animals with a dignified and peaceful ending while helping their owners make the most important decision in their pet’s life?

I believe it is by treating euthanasia as important and meaningful as every other service we have provided throughout the life of a pet. I imagine I have euthanized thousands of animals over my career and so for my own mental health I need to do this well. I need to know that euthanizing is in the best interests of the animal and I need to know that I am doing the best job I can.

It is so difficult for owners to make this final decision regarding their pet’s care. Research has shown that 70% of clients will be emotionally affected by the death of their pet, 30% will feel overwhelming grief, and 50% will experience guilt over the decision to euthanize (1). These numbers are no surprise as animals are viewed by most of us as beloved family members.

How we handle the conversations leading up to euthanasia can significantly impact how our clients will feel after the death of their pet. Compassionate end-of-life discussions and acknowledging the gravity of such a decision can go a long way toward making the unimaginable manageable. It is important to let owners know that it may never feel like the right time to euthanize but it is our duty to the animals we love to prevent suffering.

There are Quality of Life Scales for dogs and cats that can help us counsel owners on end-of-life decisions. I think it is crucial that owners know that they do not have to make this decision alone and that we as veterinarians will be there with them until the end. Once the decision has been made it is imperative that clients have privacy, comfort, and no distractions. Sedating the animals prior to euthanizing and placing IV catheters beforehand has certainly made the procedure less stressful for many families and their pets.

I have heard so many amazing stories about the human-animal bond as we wait for pets to become sedated — how these animals were there for their owners in the best and worst of times. I have heard whispered messages for the dog to tell loved ones when they get to heaven. I have seen grown men break down and weep and children make sure that much loved bones and balls go with their pets. I have heard of such touching going away parties — trips to McDonalds, rides down country roads with heads hanging outside car windows and the last night spent together in bed.

I am now on my 3rd generation of family animals at this clinic. I have given puppies their first vaccinations and I have held their paws as they died. Some euthanasias break my heart but they all touch me with the significance of what I have done. I have come to see my role in euthanasia as an honor and a privilege. It is a privilege for me to be able to help say goodbye to a beloved pet and ensure they have a peaceful and kind death.

I love these words from a book I read and I often repeat them to heartbroken families. “I had my arms around his neck, my face buried in his shoulder, and from above me I felt what I thought for one befuddled moment was rain, the same rain that was falling so hard out on the street, making that stones-in-a-tin-can sound. Then I realized it was my husband’s tears. I could hear our children sobbing, and suddenly, improbably, I was almost exultant at the love we had managed to muster for that old dog, and at the thought that someday, if I was very, very lucky, I might have a death as simple and serene as this one, with these same people around me”: Taken from the book, “Good Dog. Stay.” by Anna Quindlen.