Losing a beloved pet feels like a sucker punch to the gut, to the soul, to the heart. Well actually as for the heart it just aches profoundly for days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months.
We mourn our deceased pets with our entire beings.
When we wake up we think of them, what they would typically do in the mornings, or perhaps we think of what they would do in the mornings when they were younger, full of vitality.
We may accidentally still go to their food or water dishes by habit, get out 2 treats when now we only have one dog. We may fasten their old collars to a very visible place or even make some kind of shrine for them.
We can smell their old blanket or bed, look longingly at old photos of them or even take a photo of where they would often lay hoping to see some miraculous, ghostly image of them in the picture.
We write about them, pray for them, visualize them in a happy, safe place somewhere beyond time and space.
Oftentimes we even hear our pets walking, after they're gone, without explanation.
Strange coincidences can even occur~ your pet's name was Sasha, you by chance flip on the tv and by chance "All Dogs Go to Heaven II" is on and the main character's name is Sasha (this really happened to me).
We cry, and cry and cry some more.
We sometimes swear off 'getting another one,' knowing that our beloved pet was special in some way... 'irreplaceable.'
How do I know all of these things?
Because I've been there, done that, felt that, more than once, for my own pets.
But I need to share something with you, something I hope provides you the comfort it provided me after losing my most recent pet, Thalia.
It's a different perspective on your pet's mortality.
If you're reading this blog you likely know that I worked for a few years in two different municipal shelters. However I have never shared on this blog that I had to perform euthanasia weekly when working at one of the shelters. At that particular shelter the Animal Care Specialists were rotated once/weekly in the euthanasia room. For the first 6 months of my employment I was able to avoid this horrid assignment. It took time to circulate through the state-mandated euthanasia certification course. Co-workers with whom I had started working were eager to get their certification saying things like, "Well I feel bad for Susie or Mandy because they're constantly in euthanasia since not many of us are certified; It's only fair that we get certified so the same people don't always have to do it," or, "When a sick or injured animal comes in on second shift and one of us is the only one here it will be a relief to be able to end the animal's suffering."
Those may be practical and fair-minded points but I could never relate to this way of thinking. I begged my manager to not make me go through euthanasia certification. I told her I didn't know if I'd be capable of doing it. My pleas fell on deaf ears for the most part, eventually I could avoid certification no more.
Having to euthanize innocent, typically healthy, cats and dogs for an entire shift one day a week was excruciatingly horrific, even more so than you can imagine.
There were the bubbly, friendly, tail-wagging, chin-licking, young lab or pit mixes- they'd burst into the euthanasia room so full of energy and joy, thrilled to be out of their kennels 'going on a walk.' These were the dogs that would wag their tails throughout being held in the restraint position, that would be licking your face, seemingly smiling, as you pulled off to locate the vein, their tails would wag until the blue juice would make its way from the vain to the brain to tell the tail to stop wagging. The tail would stop its joyful thump as the heart would beat its last few beats. Innocence, youth and joy cut to a screeching halt... horrific.
Mommy cats with litters of nursing kittens, we'd always euthanize mommy first so she wouldn't hear her kittens cry out.
I remember one litter in particular. I brought a small dog bed into the euthanasia room. After euthanizing friendly mommy cat I laid her in the small dog bed in as natural position as possible. The kittens were too tiny to locate a vein so I had to inject blue juice directly into their bellies (common procedure but this is painful for the kittens and it takes longer for them to die). I laid each kitten with its mommy; the kittens rooted to find a nipple to nurse on their mom's lifeless body. Horrific. The only relief I found in this sight was knowing that the kittens would die quicker nursing off of mommy. Horrific.
There was the 3 month old puppy that had been returned for being 'aggressive' that my manager insisted we euthanize, even though I offered through tearful pleas to foster the playful pup. I did not personally euthanize this puppy but it hurt just the same.
There was the dog China I had worked so hard to find a home for, had succeeded, only to have the couple return her a week later because she had chewed up their kitchen floor. I had named her China because she had somewhat squint-y eyes... a pretty, petite, brindle pit mix. At this point in the shelter world it was typical to euthanize a pet for being returned, this was circa 2007 and the euth rate was still around 65%. I did not personally euthanize China but it hurt just the same.
There was Rocky, God bless his soul, that I had worked with daily. He was a black and white border collie too smart for his own good. He was a fence jumper. He was so damn smart. This dog trusted me and my co-worker so that he obediently and calmly held his paw out as my co-worker located his vein. The minute the blue juice hit him he jerked, looking deceived. Rocky was so smart that he knew death was being delivered intravenously. He's the only dog I've ever seen to fight euthanasia once the drug has hit. It works so fast that pets typically don't even know what has hit them; Rocky was different. He knew. He tried to 'shake it off.' It haunts me to this day and it will until the day I die.
Pets may defecate themselves as they die.
Once hearts stop beating pets are put into big black garbage bags- every single day of the week, month and year all around this country.
They're then put into a freezer that smells like death. Their lifeless bodies wait there for the garbage men to come get them once or twice a week to take them to the city dump.
I could share dozens more stories about innocent, happy, healthy, homeless pets being euthanized but I will not. That's not the purpose of this blog.
How did this affect me personally? How could I do this? -You may wonder.
I cried daily. I had nightmares almost every night. I would sob each and every time I was in euthanasia; my manager tried to console me saying, "You're the normal one Jessica. It's normal for you to feel this sad. The rest of us are weird for somehow being able to disconnect in order to euthanize these animals."
I wrote a lot. I have a plaque with many of the beloved pets' names written on it.
I fantasized about dying myself. I wrote a will of sorts, saying that, if I should die I wanted to be placed into a big, black garbage bag and taken to the city dump in a dump truck. And I meant it. I thought, if I died and the story of me being thrown into a big garbage bag and taken to the dump were to air on CNN and would shed some light on euthanasia of homeless pets my death would not be in vain. I truly was willing to and wanted to die in a way.
I wondered what right I had to live when all of these innocent babies were being killed day in and day out.
Clearly euthanasia was not for me. I lasted about six months and quit, then continued on as a volunteer. I couldn't handle that aspect of the job any longer.
Why am I sharing all of this in a blog titled, "Putting Your Pet's Mortality Into Perspective"?
I'm sharing it to put your pet's mortality into perspective.
Your pet knew love.
Your pet had a home.
Your pet had you.
Your pet hopefully even managed to live a long, happy life.
Hopefully your pet did not suffer but if it did, it did not suffer alone. It had you.
Your pet had a safe and comfy place to sleep at night.
Your pet didn't have an embedded collar, was not neglected, full of ticks or hairless with sarcoptic mange. Your pet wasn't pregnant and dumped because of it.
Every single day the majority of municipal shelters in our country euthanize cats and dogs, every single day. This is a harsh and unfair reality for millions of cats and dogs each year.
Every one of these animals is a unique and special being. Every single one has a story and a personality. What's sad is that most of them die without their story being known or told or their personality being discovered by anyone. They die by injection in a cold room with a radio playing and, more often than not, without anyone to love them or even know to care that they're getting ready to perish.
I know this is morbid. I know it's sad. But this knowledge and life experience helped me put my most recent beloved pet's passing into perspective. I mourned Thalia deeply for a few weeks but then was able to move forward. I still think of her nearly every day but not with sadness. Honestly I would feel guilty to feel sad for my sweet girl having passed. She had a loving home when she was alive.
I feel sad for the ones that are homeless in a shelter at this minute. I feel sad for the ones that will die tomorrow in a euthanasia room, many whom are young, friendly and healthy.
One last thing to contemplate: there are so many homeless cats and dogs. If our cats and dogs lived for 20 or 30 years they're be even more homeless pets because no one would need to adopt another pet until their pets die... does that make sense? I know it's far out there but this is written by a former shelter worker. Pets are not meant to live forever because there are too many without a home... waiting on a home... many being killed before they find one.
So mourn for a few months to a year, but then please, go save a life in memory of your sweet baby. Trust me when I say that is what your pet would want you to do. Please believe that.
...I hope this helps on some level.
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| picture of elderly dog taken from softhearted.wordpress.com |
