I put my dog down recently because she was suffering. She was falling down stairs (until we blocked them and carried her), she was spinning in circles. She was panting and overheating (in a room that was only 62 degrees). She was forcing herself into the corners of the padded area that I set up for her to keep her from wandering off and hurting herself, and she was doing that all night long, barely getting any sleep.
I stayed with her at night, getting up whenever she did. When she was panting and uncomfortable, I would let her outside for a half hour on the deck to cool off. She spun in circles the whole time, never resting. When she finally stopped to sit, she would fall over and then immediately get up and start with the circling again. This continued for more than a week. She was showing classic signs of dementia, getting stuck behind chairs and going to the hinge side of the door to go out. I cried every day.
Three months earlier, I had taken her to the veterinary ER. She had collapsed while playing with our other dog. The ER technician took one look at her gums, dropped everything and went to get the ER doctor. The doctor suggested an ultrasound. After the ultrasound, she said it was not good news. There was fluid in her abdomen. She wanted to sample the fluid to see what it was. I agreed. When she came back, she said it was blood, that the dog had a potentially benign or potentially fatal condition and should either be treated or euthanized.
I didn't want either of those things for her, because I understood the diagnosis as being "maybe nothing, maybe go spend your last hours with her." The dog was nearing 12, still relatively young, but too old to put through cancer therapy or another surgery (she had been through back surgery a year and a half earlier). Without any signs of suffering, I was not going to put her down. The doctor released her with a stern warning to put her down if she started to suffer. I agreed and not reluctantly. I loved that dog. My family loved that dog. But I would never let her suffer just so I could selfishly spend more time with her.
This time around, I avoided the ER. I wanted her regular doctor to see her. Believing she had sudden-onset dementia or a stroke, I didn't think there was much that could be done other than support her, and I was nervous about taking her to the ER. I didn't want her to be subjected lots of testing and a cold diagnosis from a doctor on call who didn't know her. Her doctor wasn't available for a few days, so I made the appointment and waited, but she was getting noticeably worse every day.
Her last morning was miserable. She howled, but barely. It was a heart-breaking howl that she did when she missed my mother (my mother took her every day at her house while I worked, and they had a very special bond). She couldn't eat. I held a plate of food up to her, but she couldn't take any of it. She could barely get any water into her mouth. I let her outside and she stumbled, fell, stumbled some more. I called my mother to come see her, convinced it was her dying moment. My voice was so broken that I panicked my mother and she came right away.
My mother opened with a very tearful, "Do you want to take her to put her down? I think it's time." I immediately agreed. We had to. She was suffering. My mother tried to give her a piece of toast, and she moved her mouth, but couldn't grasp it. A stroke, for sure. I canceled the appointment I had made with her regular vet and took her to the smaller clinic we used to take her to before her back surgery to be put down. It was less intimidating, and there was less noise.
On the drive down, she barely moved. She was collapsed on my lap, exhausted. When we took her in, they were ready for us. I signed a form and we spent a few minutes with her. They put in an IV and brought her back to us so that we could be with her in her last moments. When the doctor came in she asked briefly what was going on. I told her. She said, "OK, so it sounds like she is in serious decline," and we proceeded. Her body went limp from a sedative, and she was put down with a second syringe. They put her in a small cardboard casket, with a little heart where her head was.
We buried her in my mom's garden, which was perfect. My mom loved that dog and the garden. I did all of this without hesitation. I knew it was the right thing to do because I loved that dog. I would never let her suffer a miserable, painful death. But that afternoon, I started feeling pangs of remorse. I looked up her symptoms, and found that sometimes older dogs will experience disorientation, but will recover. We never asked. We assumed she had had a stroke.
Her recovery would not have been guaranteed. Many times a dog will recover from this condition, but not always. And the ER vet had told me earlier that the dog might very well have a tumor, which can sometimes cause disorientation. If a tumor was to blame, she not only wouldn't have recovered, she would have died a miserable death. But I never asked. When we took her in to be put down, I never said, "We think she is ready to be put down. Do you agree?" It seems so obvious now. I was reacting emotionally to her condition, but knew nothing about it.
I can take solace in the fact that when the ER doctor told me to put her down and refused, I made the right decision. I gave her three extra months. I can make myself feel better by thinking maybe in the long run, that doctor was right, and this was the beginning of the suffering that the doctor feared. I can be comforted knowing that my mother, the dog's favorite person, felt that it was time. But the truth is, I made a mistake. I gave up too early. I didn't ask questions. I will forgive myself for this because I have to, if I don't I will forever be haunted by it. But I can only forgive myself if I prevent it from happening to someone else. If you are faced with a suffering pet, ask questions. Step back from the emotions and get an objective opinion. Veterinarians, when a pet is presented for euthanasia, ask if the pet needs an evaluation or if the decision has been made. I know how carefully that needs to be done. When a person decides to put their pet down, they don't take it lightly and it's not fair to second-guess them, but a nudge to the rational might make all the difference.
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from Pets https://www.reddit.com/r/Pets/comments/e2htvi/my_big_mistake/
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