THE GOAL IS TO MAKE THE DECISION BEFORE THE CLIFF.
The challenge is that we never know quite where this cliff lies, but as quality of life deteriorates, our risk of hitting it increases. It’s a bit like Russian roulette.
I often see people who try to wait for that very last good day and it leads to a traumatic end. They will schedule and cancel their home euthanasia appointment repeatedly. Then one morning I wake up to a voicemail saying they had to rush their pet to the ER in the middle of the night for euthanasia. They are so sad and full of remorse that their pet’s life ended with a traumatic visit to the ER. The pet hit the cliff.
So how do we choose the right time? Rather than hoping to find the LAST GOOD DAY (which is OF COURSE what we all want to do), we find that window of opportunity where the quality of life has deteriorated somewhat, but we haven’t yet hit that cliff.
Instead of trying to play chicken with that last good day, choose a period during the decline where you can plan some great hours or days for your pet. You can have your pet’s favorite friends over, you can plan to say goodbye on a beautiful sunny day while they are basking in the sunshine by their favorite window. They can take a trip to the beach or the best steakhouse in Brooklyn. You can plan it so that all your pet’s favorite people can be there for his or her last moments. You can sing songs, say prayers, light candles and incense, make a beautiful bed of roses, and honor your pet in a truly meaningful way.
I know, it’s weird to think of it that way, but when we do, we make the end of life so much better for them, and we can cherish their beautiful twilight moments instead of being constantly filled with dread. We HAVE to accept that death is coming, and once we do, we can turn it into a celebration of life.
I had a bit of a revelatory moment earlier this year. My mom’s dog Nella started to decline rapidly – she had developed severe pain in her belly and was having difficulty getting up and down. We took her to the hospital where she was diagnosed with advanced liver cancer.
In a panic, I started telling my mom all the medications we could put her on to get her a little more time.
My mom, in impressive mental clarity, asked, “if we give her medications, will she still be in pain?” I answered, “yes, but less.” To which my mom said “why would we let her go on in pain?” She bravely made a plan, gathered the family, and we had a beautiful last day with Nella. We gave her lots of pets, fed her all her favorite treats, and my colleague came out to help us say goodbye to her. It was so hard, but it was the right thing to do.