DOOLEY OR DIE

We’re watching our dog Dooley die. He may not die today or tomorrow, but real soon. He has an inoperable tumor on his spleen and they tell us he will bleed out and die quickly. I go through the same thing every time we loose and animal. Can I do it again? Can we watch another dog or cat die, or make the choice to actually take the life of a friend of over 13 years?

These feeling seem to contradict my last Blog posting where I loosely make a case for human euthanasia, and now I’m lamenting doing that very thing for a dog. Hopefully this will explain why I feel differently. (Those of you who have never loved an animal can save yourself some time, you will have difficulty understanding what I’m about to write. Maybe you can take the time you are saving from reading and use it to think about just how we got the politicians we have now.)

As a human we understand the quality of human life and we know the quality of life expected by those for whom we are close enough to make life ending decisions, and hopefully they know ours. That, in concept, could make human euthanasia palatable, but with an animal it’s not all that clear cut. I have been told by those who proclaim to know such things that the quality of Dooley’s life is his ability to eat, poop and move around on his own power. That makes sense, but what if they are wrong? What if at the end of life Dooley would rather be the recipient of copious pain meds and just lay over in the corner in my office where he has been for the last couple of years listening to me mumble at the computer until nature takes it course?

Obviously we can’t know for sure, so when it becomes obvious to us that Fido is having trouble we make our best judgment because we know Fido better than anyone else on earth. Humans making their best judgment at the end is only right because that’s what we do for our animals all of their lives. We bring them into our homes without their consent, feed them, vet them, pet them, play with them, all at our discretion, and with having very limited input, they trust us and love us for it. Their whole lives revolve around loving and trusting us and at the end they must trust our love for them to overcome our selfishness, and that in the final analysis is what makes it so hard for us to let them go. Our pain and unwillingness to let our pet go comes not so much from the loss we believe our animal will feel, but from the loss we will feel. We know when their pain is gone, ours begins. What do I do without my office partner?

Somehow we feel humans understand death and our part in it. The animal blindly trusts us and one day we up and take his life. It’s that morbid thinking that separates the difficult end of life decisions for humans (because it’s not our “fault”), and animals (because it’s all our “fault”).

I have told all of my animals that when this life’s pain exceeds its quality (not necessarily in those words), and they are ready to move on to what’s next, they should tell me—and they all have. Nothing just yet from Dooley, but we’re watching.