SAYING GOODBYE TO A PET

I had to say ‘Goodbye’ to my beloved little pooch a couple weeks ago.

It is difficult to see them go, and it is made geometrically more difficult as the result of the process by which most of our pets leave us. Rather than allow them to walk across the so-called ‘Rainbow Bridge’ in their own time and of their own accord, (like the majority of human beings do), the vast majority of our pets are ‘helped across.’

Of course, a purposeful decision on the part of the owner to ‘dispatch’ their precious pooch or kitty naturally lends itself to the emotion we refer to as guilt, no matter how old or infirmed the bless-ed creature might be.

I have only had to ‘help’ one of four of my pet pooches across the Rainbow Bridge. Princess left us over sixty years ago. She was playing tag with a dump truck. (The dump truck won). Buddy walked across the proverbial bridge a decade and a half ago. She didn’t need any help. Several years ago, Lucy found her way across with the assistance of some dear in-laws, and an accommodating vet. However, this time I took it on myself to ‘do the deed.’

Queenie, a beloved little Shih Tzu, was nearing 18, had lost much of her eyesight, and displayed some significant symptoms of dementia. There could not be any putting it off any longer. And while I considered deputizing my brother in law, and sister in law once again, I just didn’t have the heart to deprive my Queenie of my presence during the final moments of her life.

I will spare you most of the details, as I have written at length about it in the past. However, there is a particular facet of the ordeal I wish to share with you.

Pt. 2

Queenie had visited this vet several times in the past, and he never failed to administer one or two shots. As a result, she was (or wasn’t as the case may be) prepared for the inevitable. As the doctor got ready to give her the initial sedative, Queenie struggled to avoid the pinprick.

‘Dr. Mikel’ spoke.

“You’re going to have to hold her neck and head, or I will have to muzzle her.”

Well, Queenie had NEVER been muzzled, and no one was going to begin the practice now. I leaned over slightly and placed one hand on her head and one hand under her neck. With this she settled down, and allowed the vet to do what a vet does best, (or worst, as the case may be).

Queenie whimpered slightly as the needle was inserted into one of her back legs. I told her that it was going to be okay, and that I would see her again in a few years. Although the doctor had informed me that she would fall asleep within three to five minutes, slumber seemed to overcome her in the course of a minute. I watched as her good eye closed slightly, and slumber overwhelmed her.

As I reflected on the first stage of Queenie’s ‘homegoing’ process later, it occurred to me that once I placed my left hand on her head, and my right hand under her neck, she no longer protested the vet’s agenda. It was as if she purposely invested whatever faith she could muster in the one who loved her best, and desired what was best for her.

Of course, the foregoing is another of several reasons I might have walked out of the building with a load of guilt on my shoulders, as if my precious pooch had invested her trust in someone who was altogether untrustworthy, and who had betrayed her when it counted the most.

Now Dr. Mikel picked up the second needle, and a pair of electric shears. Turning Queenie towards himself, He began to cut away a swath of fur on her right front leg. With this, he unceremoniously inserted the ‘Rainbow needle,’ …and slowly pushed the plunger.

Afterward

There is just something about participating in the demise of your pet that, regardless of how badly they need to ‘go on,’ it can feel like betrayal.

There is a scene in the movie, “Marley & Me” in which the main human character and Marley, the dog, are seated in what appears to be a wheat field. The sun is low on the horizon by this time.

Suddenly, ‘John’ looks down at Marley and says,

“Old fella, you have lived a good life. You tell me when it’s time.”

I found myself saying the same thing to Queenie on several occasions over the past few months. I think she told me.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending