When I was at the vets and trying to get my brain to think clearly, I was desperately trying to put aside the fact that we'd only lost Wallace 2 days earlier. Even thinking of having to do it again 2 days on was too horrific to contemplate but it was important that I didn't let the horror of it cloud my rationale. I didn't want to 'do it' because...well, who the hell does but then I didn't want to 'not do it' because it was too horrific to bear. If that makes sense. So, for a few moments I had to delete Wallace from my mind and just concentrate on what needed to be dealt with today. There was a chance for Radar to see a cardiology specialist on Monday but nobody at the vets had ever heard through a stethescope, what they heard today in Radars chest. Nobody knew if he would survive to see a cardiologist and nobody knew what the cardiologist would say the problem was. But we all agreed that the chances of a 'fix', if Radar did survive to see the specialist, were remote. Marc and I didnt' want Radars last days to be spent at the vets and he wasn't stable enough to come home to wait for his appointment so in a way, the decision was...a less hard one.
We all (parents, nurse and vet) went through a lot of tissues but at least Radar was spared any further discomfort/distress and he fell asleep very very easily and went on his way to meet up with Wallace and all the others.
What a load of utter bo**ox though.