Quality Of Life...*original Post Is From 2008*

[Guest vahoundlover]

I am currently struggling with this with Isabella, and have been for quite some time. Every couple of weeks I make the decision to call the Vet - but then I talk myself out of it. She doesn't have a disease that I can point at and say "This will kill her. This has her suffering and pain-ridden". She's just old and falling apart by degrees.

 

What I struggle with most is that Isabella hasn't given me any indication that SHE'S ready to go. People keep saying "You'll know - they'll tell you". What I know is that my 15 year old, incontinent, shuffling old bag of bones is fiercely hanging onto life for some reason. Her mind is sharp, her organs are all working okay and she still regards me with a calculating eye. How can I take life away from her? How can I just have her killed? Who would I be doing it for, exactly? So yes, I know what you're talking about. I just don't know the guilt because I haven't yet had to courage to take it on. Just as I don't know if euthanizing her would be for my benefit or hers, I also don't know if NOT euthanizing her is for my benefit or hers.

 

 

[Guest jettcricket]

What made it so difficult for me with Freddie was that we scheduled his euthenasia. With other pets, you take them to the emergency room or the vet and they are sick or whatever, but you handle it right then and there. We had an appointment to kill him. At my house. Was he ready? Yes. He was gone in less than 5 seconds. Does that make me feel any better? No.

You didn't have an appointment to kill him Mary. Killing is a cold, nasty thing which isn't done with love or care or kindness. The appointment you made for Freddy was to have him released from his discomfort and to allow him to be at peace. There's a massive difference

 

A friend of mine told me when I had to have my kitty, Sushi, euthanized years ago and I agonized over it. "Lin...God has already made that decision..your just making her passing easier". It did give me some comfort. And anytime that I've had to make that decision, I play those words over in my mind. The pain is still there, but I know that I've made the right decision.

 

People should have the same dignity as we allow our pets....

Edited September 8, 2008 by jettcricket

[Brindles]

Reading this thread makes me really sad because of everyone who thinks they "killed" their dogs. Putting dogs down to ease their pain is NOT killing! I've never, ever thought of it like that. When my dogs go, it'll be because they're legitimately suffering, not because I'm "killing" them. Oh how I wish we humans had the luxury of euthanasia.

 

We had to put the family dog down when I was 11 years old. I've basically never dealt with the death of a pet on my own before, and here I've got three dogs all around the same age and then one nearing the end of his breed's life span. Julio is too old for another cancer surgery. He's healthy overall, but definitely geriatric. He loves two things the most- food, for one, and then walks/car rides. If he starts to lose interest in those things, then I'll know it's time. But not until then.

 

I'd much, much rather be too early than too late. Dogs want QUALITY, not quantity. They don't care how long or short they live, they just want to be happy while they're here. There's no reason to let them suffer when euthanasia is an option.

 

Please don't think of it in terms of "killing" your dog when you're just doing what's best for them! Letting a dog go is hard, so don't make yourself feel worse.

 

[Guest Winterwish]

I agree with you Brindles.

Edited September 9, 2008 by Winterwish

[Guest Amber]

I've not had to make this decision yet - but with our family dog when i was growing up, my parents let him go on for far too long when he was in heart failure and kept collapsing. Eventually he had a huge collapse (I didn't see it), soiled his bed etc. (very unlike him), couldn't get up - it was over and he had to be PTS. I think they should have done it a lot sooner, he was definitely suffering before that.

 

With Oscar I've had a couple of big health scares where I thought I 'might' have to euthanize, but thank goodness both times he recovered with a lot of vet intervention.

 

My brother said to me regarding quality of life: if one, or more of three things goes or doesn't work anymore, then the dog has a compromised quality of life and euthanasia needs to considered:

 

1. eating

2. walking/mobility

3. toileting

 

So i guess I'll try to stick by that as a guideline.

[DunesMom]

What I struggle with most is that Isabella hasn't given me any indication that SHE'S ready to go. People keep saying "You'll know - they'll tell you". What I know is that my 15 year old, incontinent, shuffling old bag of bones is fiercely hanging onto life for some reason. Her mind is sharp, her organs are all working okay and she still regards me with a calculating eye. How can I take life away from her? How can I just have her killed? Who would I be doing it for, exactly? So yes, I know what you're talking about. I just don't know the guilt because I haven't yet had to courage to take it on. Just as I don't know if euthanizing her would be for my benefit or hers, I also don't know if NOT euthanizing her is for my benefit or hers.

 

Oh Elizabeth and Heather, I so wish I could hug you. This may be the hardest decision you will ever make, and I know it too well:

 

Five weeks ago today I held my beloved Dune as his heart took its final beat. I'm sorry to those who think the language is harsh, but I cannot get over the fact that I chose to kill my soulmate.

 

He was not in pain. His health was as good as any five-year-old greyhound's. But his spine required thrice-daily meds or it hurt, badly enough that if he missed even one dose he'd stop eating and drinking, and at 14 and down to 62 pounds (from a racing weight of 82), that meant hospitalization within a day.

 

Like Isabella, Dune was still walking, eating, smiling, begging for pets and treats. He'd even managed to jump onto our bed four times in the last week that I'd been home, medicating and feeding him well so that he was pain-free, happy and was gaining weight -- six pounds in a week!

 

I had the horror of scheduling it six days out, like someone else did. Was I sparing him pain and humiliation? No. As long as I was home and medicating him on time, he was doing well, following me around and eating ice cream (at 14 you can eat whatever you want, I say).

 

But I was leaving town for three weeks, to visit my SO's father/family and help my SO plan his 92-year-old father's funeral; his father hinted that it might well be the last time we'd see him alive (his heart and spine are giving out, though not his spirit, either). And on my previous three unavoidable work trips this summer, NO ONE could get meds into Dune. No one. Not the vet tech we hired, not the SO, not the animal-first-aid licensed dogsitters, not Dune's beloved "doggie godparents" who tried everything. He was a master pill-spitter-outer (and liquid spitter-outer). I'd tried everything to help the dogsitters: special compounded liquids, showing them my technique, hiring other "med" specialists. Yet they'd failed, and he'd lost 12 pounds in those three trips, pounds I hadn't been able to recover in my in-between stays.

 

My choice: Kill the dog I love more than almost any human alive, or fail that one human who ranks above Dune. The vet told me that, with meds on schedule, he might live another six months or a year -- everything else was healthy. Then again, the pain meds may have stopped working the next week. She supported either decision.

 

Anyone who says you will "know" hasn't been in a rock and a hard place with an old dog whose body is failing but whose mind and spirit are as happy to see you as they've ever been, an old smiling hound who relishes smells on his one-block shuffles and snuggles up with a contented sigh on the bed with you, who is pain-free more than 80% of the time but who faces a possible pain-filled near-death or death due to the failings of humans.

 

My neighbors, dogsitters, friends and SO all think I made the "right" decision, that Dune would likely have ended up in pain and starving when I was gone, just as he'd been in pain the last time I'd left and the dogsitters failed him in medicating.

 

But as far as I'm concerned, I killed the greatest dog that ever lived just so I could do the "right thing" in the human world and see an old man who called to tell me he wouldn't be around by Christmas, and turned out to be doing just as well as he'd been for the past five years other than his hearing.

 

There is no limit to the grief and guilt I feel. There are few friends who even vaguely understand; some of the ones I'd believed to be the biggest dog-lovers have actually said, "he was a dog, you'll get over it." The only comfort is in knowing that he didn't suffer, and that he died happily in my arms in his favorite bed, doing his favorite thing -- sunbathing on our front porch -- while the anesthesia took effect.

 

I would rather have had a disease help me with this decision. It is, and was and I think will forever be, the worst thing I have ever done.

[Jackandgrey]

What I struggle with most is that Isabella hasn't given me any indication that SHE'S ready to go. People keep saying "You'll know - they'll tell you". What I know is that my 15 year old, incontinent, shuffling old bag of bones is fiercely hanging onto life for some reason. Her mind is sharp, her organs are all working okay and she still regards me with a calculating eye. How can I take life away from her? How can I just have her killed? Who would I be doing it for, exactly? So yes, I know what you're talking about. I just don't know the guilt because I haven't yet had to courage to take it on. Just as I don't know if euthanizing her would be for my benefit or hers, I also don't know if NOT euthanizing her is for my benefit or hers.

 

Oh Elizabeth and Heather, I so wish I could hug you. This may be the hardest decision you will ever make, and I know it too well:

 

Five weeks ago today I held my beloved Dune as his heart took its final beat. I'm sorry to those who think the language is harsh, but I cannot get over the fact that I chose to kill my soulmate.

 

He was not in pain. His health was as good as any five-year-old greyhound's. But his spine required thrice-daily meds or it hurt, badly enough that if he missed even one dose he'd stop eating and drinking, and at 14 and down to 62 pounds (from a racing weight of 82), that meant hospitalization within a day.

 

Like Isabella, Dune was still walking, eating, smiling, begging for pets and treats. He'd even managed to jump onto our bed four times in the last week that I'd been home, medicating and feeding him well so that he was pain-free, happy and was gaining weight -- six pounds in a week!

 

I had the horror of scheduling it six days out, like someone else did. Was I sparing him pain and humiliation? No. As long as I was home and medicating him on time, he was doing well, following me around and eating ice cream (at 14 you can eat whatever you want, I say).

 

But I was leaving town for three weeks, to visit my SO's father/family and help my SO plan his 92-year-old father's funeral; his father hinted that it might well be the last time we'd see him alive (his heart and spine are giving out, though not his spirit, either). And on my previous three unavoidable work trips this summer, NO ONE could get meds into Dune. No one. Not the vet tech we hired, not the SO, not the animal-first-aid licensed dogsitters, not Dune's beloved "doggie godparents" who tried everything. He was a master pill-spitter-outer (and liquid spitter-outer). I'd tried everything to help the dogsitters: special compounded liquids, showing them my technique, hiring other "med" specialists. Yet they'd failed, and he'd lost 12 pounds in those three trips, pounds I hadn't been able to recover in my in-between stays.

 

My choice: Kill the dog I love more than almost any human alive, or fail that one human who ranks above Dune. The vet told me that, with meds on schedule, he might live another six months or a year -- everything else was healthy. Then again, the pain meds may have stopped working the next week. She supported either decision.

 

Anyone who says you will "know" hasn't been in a rock and a hard place with an old dog whose body is failing but whose mind and spirit are as happy to see you as they've ever been, an old smiling hound who relishes smells on his one-block shuffles and snuggles up with a contented sigh on the bed with you, who is pain-free more than 80% of the time but who faces a possible pain-filled near-death or death due to the failings of humans.

 

My neighbors, dogsitters, friends and SO all think I made the "right" decision, that Dune would likely have ended up in pain and starving when I was gone, just as he'd been in pain the last time I'd left and the dogsitters failed him in medicating.

 

But as far as I'm concerned, I killed the greatest dog that ever lived just so I could do the "right thing" in the human world and see an old man who called to tell me he wouldn't be around by Christmas, and turned out to be doing just as well as he'd been for the past five years other than his hearing.

 

There is no limit to the grief and guilt I feel. There are few friends who even vaguely understand; some of the ones I'd believed to be the biggest dog-lovers have actually said, "he was a dog, you'll get over it." The only comfort is in knowing that he didn't suffer, and that he died happily in my arms in his favorite bed, doing his favorite thing -- sunbathing on our front porch -- while the anesthesia took effect.

 

I would rather have had a disease help me with this decision. It is, and was and I think will forever be, the worst thing I have ever done.

 

 

My heart is breaking for you. Dune would hate for you to be feeling this badly. He loved you far to much for that.

[Guest greytgrandma]

Well, as we come up on the 2 year anniversary of Kona's departure I can say you are not alone in your thinking. I chose the shot for her, not her. Was it the right thing, yep. But it does not ever get rid of the fact that I killed my dog. She was 14. She lost use of both back legs. I could have waited it out, but it was not good. It haunts me to this day.

 

I am sorry you feel that way too Heather. I am also sorry you have to take Grandpa in. I will pray they vets can do something for him to make it better.

 

we loved our little dog for almost 18 years.When she quit eating and was withering away to nothing . The vet said it was just her old body shutting down.She was no longer the happy bouncy dog that she once was and looked at me threw her frosted over eyes like she was saying please help me. I just could not let her just starve to death. But I still feel like I killed my dog and always second guess my decision even tho I know she would not have gotten better.

 

I still love you my sweet Shasta

 

[Guest ShelbyzMom]

Neither DH or I have had to make that decision yet, and I don't like to even THINK about it

 

My parents had to make the horrible decision to put down the family dog when I was 16. I'll never forget the day I came home and they told me that Candi had been PTS. That is the first time I ever saw my dad cry She had a stroke and wasn't able to recover, she was about 14 and we'd had her ever since she was a puppy. I still miss her and that was 12 years ago.

[Guest JarBear]

I am not afraid of death but I'm very afraid of pain, suffering, and/or the loss of my mind. I put myself in their place and make the decision based on what I would want. It's so very difficult to go home without them but I am always at peace with the decision being the right one.

[Guest azlorenz]

We had a 17 year old red healer named Pete. He was our first fur kid of our very own. We brought him home at 6 wks. Boy did we make a lot of mistakes with him but we had a good time and he lived a long and wonderful life. We nursed him along in his later years and one day he had a seizure and we knew it was time. The fact was the end of his life was near, he wasn't going to get better, and we didn't want him to suffer. I miss him but I have no guilt over that decision.

 

The next one wasn't so easy. Jeffrey was our second greyhound. He was big, goofy, quiet guy. He came to live with us at the ripe old age of 3 in September 2002 and was diagnosed with Valley Fever in May 2003. We never did get an upper hand in that battle and by July his liver was failing. There was no way I was letting this disease take him at the age of 4, it just wasn't possible. It consumed me to the point I lost all perspective. His albumin level was 1.0 and the vet prepared me for what to expect and it was ugly. He was already retaining approximately 10lbs of fluid and looked pregnant. He was anorexic and the days he would eat even a bite of food were good ones. Jeffrey had given up and I couldn't see it, I didn't want to see it. One evening my husband talked me into getting out of the house. We weren't gone 30 minutes and when we came home it was obvious something was horribly wrong. Jeffrey couldn't move, he was bruised from top to bottom and he lashed out at me in pain when I tried to comfort him. I finally came to my senses and looked at the situation with some reality. I immediately called the vet and told her it was time. It was the hardest decision of my life and 4 years later can bring tears to my eyes and make my heart break all over again. I have such guilt. Guilt that I didn't figure out that he had Valley Fever sooner. Guilt that I couldn't fix him. Guilt that I had been so stubborn and let him suffer so long. Guilt that I was terrible greyhound owner for letting this happen to him, for giving up in this battle and on and on and on.

 

Jeffrey's urn is on top of my computer armoire and his tags are on my key ring. I never want to forgot that experience because I believe it humbled me and gave me perspective. I never want to lose sight of that again. Jeffrey made me a better person I hope.

[Guest Spiff]

We haven't had to make a decision yet with Spiff, but I know it is coming up in the next weeks. Do we let him go when he can still walk? Or do we wait until he has a serious enough crisis with his LS that he just can't walk at all anymore?

 

At that point, it would be an emergency and he would have to go to the vet's. If we plan a little ahead, so it's not an emergency call, the vet will come to our house. I think it would be preferable to do it on our own terms in the comfort of our home, since Spiff has grown to dislike the vet's office.

 

It's a tough choice. There has been twice in the last month that Spiff has been unable to walk -- once for an entire day... but with increasing doses of predisone, he makes it up again. And he's still enjoying eating, running wildly around the yard (in as much as he can run), and is demanding about his scritches.

 

I don't think he's going to tell us when it's time for him to go. He is entirely too stubborn. So, yes, I know exactly where many of you are coming from...

 

Spiff is living on borrowed time and it's running out -- but we don't know how much sand is still in the hour glass.

 

If he doesn't have a crisis (that requires emergency action) through the middle of October, I think we have to let him go on our terms then (after the grandparents have gotten to visit him one last time). I think I owe it to my sweet boy to try to give him a peaceful departure from this world at home, rather than a scary, uncomfortable last visit to the vet's office.

Edited September 16, 2008 by Spiff

[Guest MorganKonaAlex]

I'm in the same boat with Morgan. He's my 13 year old tripod. He's been on borrowed time for quite a while now. He hasn't been eating well for a long time. I think it's time and then he rallies and eats for a while. He's also developed some LS which is very difficult being a tripod to start with. It's a hard decision when it's a gradual decline.

[MauCarden]

I have just now seen this thread and really really wish I had not. Can't even read most of the posts. So I will address this to just to the OP. There are mostly knowledgeable, loving grey parents on GT, but there are a few I consider the Uber-experts, who's knowledge and advice I would seek first. You are obviously one of them, Trust yourself as others trust you.

[Pippin]

I have a standing agreement with my vet, because I don't trust myself for a decision of this magnitude. And I have a standing promise to my dogs, that I verbalize to each of them when they move in with me.

 

I promise them that I will do my best to give them the best possible life that they can have. I will love them and care for them, and they will have a home with me for the rest of their lives. Then I tell them that when it's time to let them go, I will. I don't want them to be hanging on for my sake, when it's time for them to be at the bridge. And I don't want to make them stay longer than they should, just so that I don't have to face life without them.

 

My agreement with Doc is that when she says it's time, I say ok. Her policy is that she'll never rush to euthanize, because it can't be undone.

 

With Jessie the IG, she was in kidney failure, and I had one weekend at home before being gone for another two weeks. Neither of us wanted her to suffer through those next two weeks, and maybe not last until I got home again. So we made an appt for the open spot Doc had on her calendar that Saturday, and I got home from my business trip in time to have 24 hours with my little girl before she left. I'd had time to prepare for it - I'd had several dreams in the previous weeks that made it plain to me that she was ready to go.

 

With Angie...I had to force myself to honor the promise I've made to each of them, because I was out of town. She couldn't stand without help, wouldn't eat, soiled herself due to not being able to stand on her own... It would be another 3 days before I got back home.

 

Doc said it's time, I said let's give it another day, just in case it was idiopathic vestibular, and she said ok. We talked some more, and before we hung up, I came back around to "What would you do?" and she said if it were her dog, she'd let her go. So I swallowed hard and said ok.

 

That still hurts, but at the same time, I believe that had I been there, Angie would have tried to hang on for me. And in the end, I did honor my promise to her.

 

I will do the same with the rest of my kids, but I'm hoping that I have years before I have to face that decision again.

[Guest ArtoftheGryhnd]

Someone told me "better three days too early, than three days too late." I think about this phrase a lot ...

 

No matter how many times you make the decision, or for what reasons, it is hard to lose them.

 

They are wonderful dogs.

[PatricksMom]

I haven't had to make the decision for a dog, but I have had to for several other animals. It's a horrid thing to have to decide, I think second guessing yourself is inevitable no matter what you do, but unfortunately it's part of sharing our lives with these guys.

 

It does help me to know that they are in the moment creatures, they don't dread their death the way humans tend to, and that as hard as the process is on us, at least in my experience its always been very peaceful for them.

 

My mom had to make the decision for her dog when I was a kid--she had become blind, deaf, and had started having seizures that terrified her (this was decades ago, before they could really do anything.) It sucked, royally, but she was just so scared all the time it wasn't fair to continue to put her through that.

[Guest Pipi5]

I voted "both". I included my 3 elkhounds & my greyhounds.

[Guest greytloves]

While I have not had to make the choice due to quality of life (and I hope ever not) I sure hope I would be brave and selfless enough to do it. I hope.

 

Mine has always been cancer. Man I hate cancer.

[Guest LindsaySF]

Reading this thread makes me really sad because of everyone who thinks they "killed" their dogs. Putting dogs down to ease their pain is NOT killing! I've never, ever thought of it like that. When my dogs go, it'll be because they're legitimately suffering, not because I'm "killing" them. Oh how I wish we humans had the luxury of euthanasia.

 

 

Please don't think of it in terms of "killing" your dog when you're just doing what's best for them! Letting a dog go is hard, so don't make yourself feel worse.

 

I agree with you.

 

Sometimes it is the right thing to do. I think it is FAR worse to allow the animal to suffer and fade away....

 

[LisaB]

That concept of "better days early than days late" has me thinking...

 

With both of my cairns, I was days late, just hoping things would turn around, the meds would work, their appetites would return. And then they ended up going downhill really fast, with emergency trips to the vet, with them suffering and scared and me agonizing over having put them through it. What really stinks is the fact that they both majorly rallied for the day or two before the very end...giving me more hope that they were going to pull through.

 

So now I'm feeling like I might end up overcompensating when the time comes with Sweetie and Spicy--that I'll want to let them go TOO early. But, let me tell you, having all of you here on GreyTalk to discuss things with is going to make it so much easier to know and trust that all avenues have been explored and all options exhausted if/when any kind of disease hits our household.

 

Thank you ALL, for that.

[Guest luvdogs]

I still feel guilty about having to make the decision to put my 16 year old Westie down last year. She was old, was pretty much blind, couldn't hear, had a hard time with stairs, incontinent (THAT was a minor issue), arthritis, snarky which I believe was because it was her defense mechanism to compensate for her loss of senses. She started to nip at people if she was startled. The moment I knew it was time, was when she bit me and drew blood. I knew she didn't mean it but in that moment going through my mind was "its time". The next day my husband took her to the McDonalds drive through for her last burger and then we went to the vet and said good-bye. It was truly one of the most painful days of my life emotionally and I have never seen my husband such a mess, we both cried for hours and days. I didn't think I would ever get another dog because losing them is so hard and now here I am with two more. I just have to have faith that I did the right thing, but it doesn't keep me from second guessing myself.

[RobinM]

As you know, our sweet Polli's time came to a very abrupt halt just 2months after she turned 10. The tragedy of it all was that Polli was sooooooooooooooooooooooo very young at heart.

 

Although we thought and believed we beat the OS- it got her. Snuck up and just took her life away.

 

It was only the last day that she told me- HELP ME. So, we did.

 

 

[Guest Cris_M]

I was blessed to choose the perfect day to let Gabriel, my heart dog, go. He let me know Friday morning that it was time. We made the appointment for Friday afternoon. Kirk and I took him out to his favorite place on a glorious fall day; the trees were alight in color, the Canada geese flew in formation. The vets loved Gabriel. Everyone came to be with him as he died. Everyone cried.

 

And, you know what? The guilt and sorrow are still there -- years later. Even with that perfect time, the decision is hard to make and hard to live with. But, every bit of pain was worth the honor of knowing, loving and being loved by Gabriel.

 

Every time I read or hear of someone else going through this, my heart breaks as it goes out to them. It is not "just a dog" and it is one of the hardest things to do.

[Guest KennelMom]

...Update...

 

We ended up having to say goodbye to Grandpa last December. The day before my birthday and only three months after this thread. It was a quality of life decision. We said goodbye to Elvis only a month after this post - he had cancer.