The "how will I know it is time" question is a common one for vets and one of the most common questions asked on this site. Of course, there isn't one clear-cut answer for this question. The nature of the disease or condition, the general health of the pet, and the household/living situation all play a part in this process. As can be expected, it is a very personal decision. A decision that I would never answer for anyone else, but have tried to provide guidelines.
I have several resources on this site on the topic of euthanasia, pet loss and grief, and how to recognize the signs that the time is near. Even with that knowledge, when I was faced with saying goodbye to my most favorite cat, Herman Roosevelt Quinn, all of those suggestions flew out the window.
I had a while to say goodbye, having diagnosed his hyperthyroidism one year prior. I was considering I-131 therapy, an excellent treatment option for hyperthyroidism, but his kidneys were showing early signs of failure, and so he was not a candidate for that treatment. We opted for daily Tapazole® pills, and that suited him just fine.
In this last year, Herman enjoyed whatever he wanted to eat (one side benefit of hyperthyroidism, good appetite) and the love of his family: human, feline and canine! Despite this, he lost weight. He lost some of his sass. He lost most of his hearing. He used the litter box a lot (increased thirst and urination, primarily from kidney failure). He still had that sweet quizzical look and purring "meow" every time I looked at him, though. Even when sound asleep, he would uncurl and meow-purr a greeting.
So how would I know when it is time? Once a "robust" cat (ahem) who was perpetually on a diet, it was hard to see him so much smaller in size. Other than that, he wasn't in any noticeable pain or discomfort and was eating fairly well, considering. Kidney failure can go on for years, and with his hyperthyroidism nicely under control with medication, I wasn't sure of the time we had left.
Then it happened. A subtle change, but undeniable. He went on a hunger strike. Still interested in food, even begging for food (life-long habits die hard), but nope. He would just walk away, likely nauseous due to the disease processes.
My husband was surprised when I mentioned that it might be time. "He still seems the same, and he begs for food each morning." Then we discussed how much Herman was actually consuming, and it was a different picture.
As the cat who had been with me for almost 17 years, through thick and thin, I wanted him to have some dignity. I didn't want to wait until there was some sort of emergency; a definite, without question have-to-do-it-now situation. That is really hard; when your pet is still cognitive, loves being scratched under the chin and alert.
Here are the steps I did to prepare for the inevitable and ease into that Final Goodbye.
- Call ahead to a vet (or vets) of your choice
Pick a time when you can speak clearly and ask about their procedure. Ask questions. Do they do a sedative prior to euthanasia? Will you be able to choose if you want to stay with your pet? How are the remains handled? What are good (i.e. quiet) days and times for this procedure to take place? Are you able to expedite things by pre-paying and filling out necessary information beforehand? - Consider other family members
For us, we had the kids say goodbye at home. Our neighbor boy also wanted to come over and bid farewell, and that helped with closure for our kids, too. For Herman, I needed to not be worrying about my kids, so we arranged for friends to watch them during this time. It was also better for the kids to say goodbye in a calm, quiet environment. This is a personal decision, everyone is different. Talking over this event with kids prior to the appointment will ease the transition, whatever plan you choose. - Have someone drive you to the appointment, if possible
This may sound extreme, but this allows you to focus on your pet on the way there and not worry about driving afterward. After, if you need to get a cup of coffee or go for a walk, it is nice to have company to talk to.
Yes, it was a very sad day, saying goodbye to this special cat. Having made plans ahead of time saved a lot of grief-guilt, though. The staff knew just what to expect, and had everything ready when we got there. I can say that it certainly helps not to have to talk and explain things when you are trying to keep it all together.
As always, time helps ease the pain of losing loved ones. Take your time, be kind to yourself, and if you feel that the loss is too overwhelming or interfering with the regular function of your job or regular life, please reach out to friends or seek professional grief counseling. There are many free telephone hotlines and resources available.
Goodbye, Herman Roosevelt Quinn.
DOB: Around January, 1992. Not sure. He was brought in by animal control, hit by a car, on July 2, 1992. About 7 months old. Stole my heart that day.
Said goodbye on October 4, 2008.
