THE FINAL DAYS OF YOUR PET

I have devoted several articles to the care of the elderly dog with emphasis on therapeutic intervention that will lengthen the life span of a beloved family member with some acceptable degree of comfort. But regrettably the time will come when the pet’s health deteriorates visibly and, eventually, rapidly. Life becomes painful and movement may become agonizing.
This pet has been with you, more than likely since a newborn. A playful puppy/ kitten with boundless energy which often seemed directed at your ankles to trip you over. Getting into mischief was a norm, and the precious antics were a source of joy to the family and brought you all together so many times to relate the fun stories. Your kids have grown into teenagers and adults along with your pet. For all practical purposes, this animal is an integral member of the family.
You cried and blamed yourself when she fell off the verandah or when you carelessly allowed your rear wheel to clip her leg. And you recall how happy you were when the vet declared that there were no injuries to internal organs, or broken/ dislocated bones. You have watched her give birth to puppies. Will you ever forget that face, that look of relief, which told you that everything was all right as she nursed her first litter – you, like her, not really knowing what was the right thing to do.
You remember the days when “Rover” went roaming while you were frantic at not knowing where he was. You scolded him, yet you hugged him in return – looking bedraggled and perhaps even with a few wounds. You could not help but feel proud, not only because he returned to his home, but because there was a twinkle in his eyes when he jumped into your arms. You cannot forget those nights when you stayed up to look after him when he was ill, and you dutifully gave him his medication or when you cradled his head at the vet while receiving the glucose/saline drip. And those horrible nights when thoughtless people threw squibs, which sent him into paroxysms of panic. You would rather stay at home on New Year’s Eve than let him go through that trauma without your care.
Yes, that human/animal bond is powerful and beautiful. Your pet would never desert you and your home is his home; his territory which he would defend – yes, even with his life. Your dog cries, laughs, exhibits jealousy, anger, fear, guilt, but never ingratitude.
And now this true friend is physically collapsing, his life is no longer a joy or a pleasure. His condition is growing progressively worse, and there is no hope for improvement. You are now confronted with a difficult situation, not unlike that which we face when a close relative is terminally ill. But the legal limitations are not the same.
This is one time when your vet cannot make the decision for you. For your vet, the situation is also painful; after all, he has also known your pet from puppyhood. Ultimately, though, some common sense and logic, and even love, forces you to accept that you owe him the final kindness of allowing him to die quickly and painlessly. The family makes the decision.

Euthanasia
The trauma associated with putting an ailing dog to sleep is understandably psychological. For the dog, there is no physical discomfort. A sedative is administered by injection into the muscle. Then, a few minutes later, an anaesthetic is infused into his vein. The concentration of the anaesthetic is enough to induce an immediate and irreversible loss of consciousness. Before you can count to five, the entire procedure is over. There should be no regret, no blame, and no self-flagellation. Perhaps later on, when the family has recovered from the loss, you may wish to visit one of the many existing humane societies with animal shelters and adopt a new puppy or kitten. And the cycle of happiness continues.
This topic of Euthanasia is not just the administration of a simple injection. The agony experienced by the caregiving family is not immediately over. Next week, we will share in depth more considerations associated with this traumatic decision, before and after.