Death

The lunch topic today included pet dogs, keeping them and what to do when their own owners have no use for them anymore. The SPCA is an option but as a last resort. And mom mentioned that we were lucky last time because we had two dogs and were moving to an apartment soon. One of them died of kidney failure (poor Rufus died alone at the vet, I'll never get over that. I was away in Michigan).

Sam was still around and old when I returned. He too had kidney problems. It got to the point we had to take him to the vet every few days to help him relieve his problem. The vet did say that he was in pain and the situation would not get any better. Sam was peeing blood. The vet suggested euthanasia. We pondered. Hemmed and hawed. And saw the anguish he was in. So we relented.

I opted to stay in the room when the vet adminstered the shot. Mom and sis opted to be outside, they weren't sure if they could take it. I was determined that I would at least be around with Sam in his last hours and not leave him alone to die like Rufus did. I would not leave him alone.

For anyone who's ever been with their pet when the fatal shot is delivered, it is heart-wrenching and undescribably heartbreaking to see the life taken out of their beloved pet. It was utterly horrible for me. One minute he was standing on the vet's table looking at me with his woeful eyes (Sam has what I call a "universal sad dog face" in that, every dog has their sad face, and Sam's sad face embodies that look), and the next he was slumped in a heap, lifeless. It happens so fast that you have no time to prepare yourself. You don't expect the life to just vanish in a flash, but it does. No sooner had mom and sis walked out the door, the vet administered the shot, and even before the door could completely close, Sam was a lump of limbs on the table.

I don't know why I dragged this memory back. It is not the best of memories. It is one I hold with guilt because we made the decision to end his life. We justify that decision by saying that it took him out of his misery and that at least he no longer had to suffer the indignity of having his bladder massaged so he could pee. I don't know. Maybe at the end of the day, that's just what we tell ourselves to make ourselves feel better. I still don't know if that was the right decision. I still feel guilty that we couldn't have tried harder to make his last years better. I'm still shocked that one second he was alive, the next he was dead.

I always thought that the one who dies has it easy. I still do. At least you don't have to deal with the ones you leave behind. It's the ones who are left behind that have to deal with moving on and coping without you. It's filling in the blanks where you used to be that's hard.

I still think of Sam and Rufus. Everyime that I do, I can't help but feel sad and guilty about their nature of death. I think I'll always feel that way.

I hope my cats outlive me.