Mercy killing

This afternoon a receptionist approached me and said, "Can you work in a euthanasia?"

Grr... it was late, already 4:30 pm, we were booked. I asked who it was and she said, "The owner said her cat was diagnosed with cancer." I looked at the record - we hadn't seen the cat in over a year, and the last few phone calls the owners declined the recommended diagnostics. "Do you want me to fit it in tomorrow?" the receptionist asked me, and that got me back into the realm of common sense. "No, if they are ready, have them come in now." I didn't know this cat or these clients, but at least euthanasias don't take long.

Of course, I was running late with my last few appointments. I could tell by my nurse's face this cat's condition was poor. "Is it as bad as we feared?" I asked her, because usually when cases like this finally come in, they've lost half their body weight and probably should have been put down long ago. "Its the worst ever," she said, pulling back the poor creature's blanket.

I saw an emaciated cat, not just so skinny you could see all of its bones, but so skinny you wondered what was holding those bones together under that skin. Because the skin was thin, hairless on the last half of the body, covered in sores, and smelled really bad. "HOW could they let this cat get like this?" my nurse asked indignantly. "HOW COULD THEY! You can't let an animal get this bad and not bring it in."

It was alarming, but I focused on the task at hand. I pulled up the euthanasia solution, took a deep breath and walked into the room.

The woman there was quietly sobbing. I introduced myself and said, "He looks pretty bad..." That's when the story of this cat came out, with her tears. "He's been gone for weeks," she said. "Despite the cancer, he's been a really good eater. Then he disappeared, and I figured he went off to die. But I kept looking for him, you know? And then today, he came back. I don't know how he did it, but he dragged himself back into my yard. I was going to let him have a natural death, but this is too much..."

Immediately, we had nothing but sympathy for this woman and her poor cat's ordeal. The cat obviously was not ambulatory, so I don't know how he got back to her either. He was half-rotten, and literally looked like death warmed over, yet she said he ate for her once he got home.

I told her she was absolutely making the right decision, helping him with a peaceful painless death to end his suffering, and that there was nothing I could do to help him, except to help him die. I also told her that clearly this cat's will and spirit exceeded the limitations of his body.

As she held him in her arms, I gave the injection that slowed his breathing and stopped his heart. She cried and kissed him good-bye, then thanked me for "still being open." All I could think was, what kind of monster would I be if I had not stayed and helped them this night?