One of the hardest jobs as a veterinarian is to be involved in the end of life process. It is not easy… it will never be easy… and it is always taken very seriously.
Practically every day, I’m involved with a decision related to humane euthanasia. I took an oath to do no harm and to end all suffering.
Over the years, I somehow learned how to put euthanasia in a special place. I am confident that the decision to end the suffering of an animal is the best thing we can do for the pet, (even when it is often the hardest thing for the owner).
But when this experience came home for me, all that professional detachment became moot. I was a mom losing her child, and not a doctor in a white coat. While I have always respected and cared for people needing to alleviate their animals’ suffering, I now have empathy and an understanding that are deeply personal.
My Great Dane, named Boomer, walked into the shelter and right into my life in March of 2014. This breed, like all giant breeds, typically has a shortened lifespan, and this big guy had a mild abnormality that put him at further risk. Despite this, I chose to take him home with me. I told my son that we might have him for six days, six weeks, six months or six years, but we were going to give him the best home we could.
I was so naïve. While I was prepping my son for the possibility of the inevitable, I never in my heart or thoughts considered my own feelings. Then again, why would I? I’ve been a practicing veterinarian for 15+ years and I deal with death all the time. Heck!!! I consistently help people with their grief and the loss of their animals.
Reality check: September 2017, Hurricane Irma came to town. I packed my things and grabbed my crew to stay at the shelter. Boomer was with me, but seemed not quite right. He was losing weight and wasn’t eating. With all my knowledge and experience, I couldn’t turn him around. I tried to feed him everything; the best dog food, the not-so-best dog food… even raw dog food. Nothing improved, nothing was working. I tried IV fluids, concoctions, formulas, and medications. Yet, I failed.
That day, I looked in his eyes and I knew the end was coming. The question I’ve been asked more times that I can count is, “When, do I intervene? When is the right time?” …Now, I sat on the other side and just felt lost and helpless. Boomer picked his head up and looked right at me. I ran to his bed, he nuzzled his head in my lap and… all at once… he left me! The pain was gutwrenching and the tears flowed. This was serious pain – the pain of a loss that I never experienced before. This felt as wrenching as a human death must feel. He was, even in that short time, our family.
Our four-legged children ask for nothing. Just love, companionship, food, water and a place to lay their head.
I’m comforted in knowing that my son and I gave all this to our Boomer, but the hole in my heart that I have, I never imagined would be so big. I feel like it might never heal.
I couldn’t save my boy. I’m a trained professional and there was nothing I could do. I cannot adequately express my love for this four-legged, 135 pound walking heart. He saved me when I didn’t even know I needed to be saved. He opened my heart when he walked into my office and allowed me to hold his head as he took his last breath.
Thank you, BoomerBoomBoom, for allowing me to love you.
Please consider adopting an older animal or becoming a Fospice Parent. A Fospice Parent provides permanent fostering of older animals, long-term animals, and animals with medical conditions which would preclude them from being placed in a loving home through our adoption program. All Fospice animals will receive routine medical care, food, litter, medication and other supplies as needed. Learn more about the Fospice Program.
