My cat Yogi was 20 years old, but the very picture of health until a malignant tumor took up residence in his mouth. It grew quickly and began causing Yogi much discomfort – so much so that he wouldn’t eat. I didn’t want my buddy to get to the point of immense suffering.
I moved about a year ago, and had looked for a veterinarian with Fear Free or Low Stress Handling credentials. I found a clinic that advertised itself as a fear-free hospital within an hour’s drive, and had visited the clinic several times without being either impressed or dismayed. I made an appointment to have Yogi euthanized at this clinic.
When the veterinarian entered the examination room, I told him I’d like Yogi to be sedated before the euthanasia drug was administered. He indicated that this was fine, and left the room. He came back with an assistant and a tiny syringe, saying, “This will sting a little but within less than five minutes he’ll be completely sedated, though his eyes will remain open. Are you ready?” I said yes. He then said that after he gave the sedation injection, he’d leave and come back in five minutes to euthanize Yogi.
I’m not new to this procedure, but it never gets easier. As a vet tech, I assisted in the euthanasia of hundreds of pets; I’ve also supported friends, family, and clients during the euthanasia of their pets, and was present when all of my own animals passed. But what I experienced that day haunts me.
Yogi was very weak, had recently stopped eating, and had failing kidneys. Many animals in this condition don’t even notice an injection. I expected that he might feel a little prick and then slowly go to sleep – but that’s not what happened.
When the vet injected the drug into the muscle of Yogi’s hind leg, my cat screamed the loudest meow I’ve ever heard and, with a power he hadn’t displayed in years, thrust himself backward almost off the end of the table. The vet said, “You can let him go.” What?! I heard the words but my protective instinct kicked in; I was not going to let my frail friend crash to the floor! I was able to prevent him from falling off the table, but then he launched himself forward and upward out of my arms, flailing toward the wall. The vet and the tech stepped away from Yogi, as I flew to the other side of the table, catching him mid-air so he wouldn’t crash into the wall. They then excused themselves and left the room!
I sat with a now-comatose cat, limp, with eyes dilated and glassy. I held his fragile, soft, furry body – the same body that had just acted like super cat – and wept. What the hell just happened? I was in shock; the peaceful end I had hoped my friend would experience had instead turned hideously painful and traumatic.
A few minutes later, the vet and tech came back in, to give the final injection in a vein in Yogi’s hind leg. Within a minute, my boy was on his way to getting his wings to soar. As for me, the shock of Yogi’s last moments kept me silent except to say thank you as I picked up Yogi’s lifeless body to take home to bury.
That night, I couldn’t sleep, thinking how I betrayed my companion of 20 years by holding him while someone hurt and terrified him. I couldn’t shake the vision of Yogi’s last moments. Since I’d never experienced such a horrific euthanasia, I thought it was an anomaly – that his reaction was rare – and I vowed to disallow that drug, whatever it was, from being used on any of my animals again.
Horror Redux
Sadly, a few months later I would be facing another end-of-life decision, this time for a dear friend’s pet. My friend had passed away, and her spouse was having a tough time grieving her loss while caring for the special-needs dogs she left behind. In her honor, I asked if I could help care for the two senior dogs: Hopper, a 17-year-old, deaf, blind Chihuahua; and Buddy, a nine-year-old dog who was disabled with a spinal injury. My friend’s husband agreed, and I took them into my home.
It soon became clear to me that Hopper was failing. After a lengthy conversation with my friend’s spouse, we decided that it was time to let Hopper go, before his suffering was unbearable. Since I thought what happened with Yogi was an anomaly, I called the same veterinary practice to make an appointment to euthanize Hopper. Still, I planned to ask the veterinarian to use a different drug to sedate Hopper, so that the experience would be like all the other euthanasias I had witnessed. In addition, when I made the appointment, I asked for a sedative that I could give Hopper before we ever even got to the veterinary hospital; this little guy was blind and deaf and very vulnerable in his dark and silent world, and I wanted to give him all the help I could.
Hopper was very relaxed in my arms as we waited in the exam room. The veterinarian entered, and asked if I wanted to sedate Hopper further before administering the euthanasia drug. I said yes – but added that I didn’t want him to use the same drug that he used with Yogi.
The doctor responded that it should be fine for Hopper, because it’s harder on cats than dogs; just a little prick and in a few minutes he’d be completely sedated. I was stunned, thinking, “Wow, really?! You know it’s harder on cats than dogs and you gave it to my cat anyway?” But at the same time, I had this tiny dog in my arms on the table, not knowing what was going on, unable to see or hear, pressing his body against mine. I didn’t want to prolong the experience. I decided to trust the doctor’s word, that dogs don’t react to this drug like cats do, and since Hopper was already relaxed from the sedative I’d given him, it would be fine. So I said, “Okay, if you think the same thing won’t happen, then it’s time; yes, go ahead.”
I held Hopper while the vet gave the injection into the muscle in Hopper’s hind leg. There was no reaction from Hopper, thank goodness. Phew! The vet left the room.
Five minutes later, Hopper was still sitting in my arms, as awake and relaxed as he had been since we arrived. The vet came back in and looked at Hopper, amazed that he wasn’t fully sedated. “Wow,” said the doctor. “I’ve never seen this before. He’s not sedated at all.”
“No, he’s not,” I said. “Perhaps the syringe was empty?”
The vet looked at me as if I was crazy. He said, “NO, I gave the injection.” I remained silent, having said what I thought to be true, that perhaps the syringe was empty. He said he would go get another injection.
When the vet came back in, I suggested that he inject Hopper’s other hind leg. He agreed, saying, “There must have been no circulation in that other leg and that’s why the first injection didn’t work.”
I held Hopper while the vet gave the injection – and this time, Hopper screamed, became Superman, and started biting at the air. Blind, he was in a state of sheer panic and pain as I held him, snapping wildly. I looked into the vet’s eyes with fire in mine. He left the room, saying he’d be back in five minutes.
The moment the door closed, Hopper collapsed in my arms. I held him close, apologizing to him and crying my eyes out. I couldn’t believe this happened again. I was stricken because I had let Hopper down – I had let down his owner, my deceased friend! I was reliving Yogi’s horrible experience, and beside myself with anger and despair – and it still wasn’t over for Hopper.
Five of the longest minutes later, the vet and the technician came back in. They said nothing as they worked together to insert the needle into a vein and administer the euthanasia drug. I wept quietly, petting Hopper and silently imploring him to forgive me. Hopper’s end, like Yogi’s, wasn’t painless nor fear-free. I felt this was a heinous crime and I was complicit.It was all I could do to drive home afterward, taking deep breaths to calm myself, wiping the tears that kept falling down my face, and talking out loud to both of my deceased friends, Hopper and his owner, the whole way. It was gibberish chatter to help me make it home.
I feel terrible that it took two awful experiences to investigate the drug that caused such pain and terror in the two animals in my care, as well as the credentials behind the “fear free” claim made on the veterinary practice’s website, only to learn that the drug used in this way is not remotely the best protocol, and that no one in the veterinary hospital had any actual training or credentials in fear-free or low-stress handling.
After being upset to the point of immobility for days, I decided that I could, at the very least, try to prevent any other animals from suffering needlessly before being euthanized while their loving guardians witness their pain and terror. I don’t want any animal to go through what mine did, or any guardian to have this haunting memory seared into their minds for the rest of their lives.
I am now on a mission to spread information about ways to do everything a guardian can do to ensure a good death for her beloved animal companions when it’s time.
I hope this helps a bit as I had a recent bad experience. I am in Australia and over here they use a green liquid that is injected. Nothing else before this…. it is a fast acting drug that puts the brain to sleep…. thus stopping the heart.
I have had to pup a number of pets to sleep in my life and they, to this point just briefly look up and pass away. It is like a 2 second deal. I did just have to put my Shih Tzu to sleep and it took 2 seconds also….. but for 1.5 seconds of that 2 seconds…. there was yelping. That was a week ago and I am barely dealing with it. There is only one thing that makes me OK with it…. and this is it:
It is not the vets fault, they were just the best on every level. It is not the drugs fault, it has always been super quick. It is just bad luck. The drug does burn if it gets outside the vein and into tissue. This can happen just via bad luck or it could be a heart condition (which she had) and not having the circulation to move the drug quickly away from the injection area.
Either way….. she is better off now than suffering another week. I tell myself this all the time as I feel she would have felt betrayed and scared. It was horrific….. but it is just the way it goes sometimes. Just so hard to deal with however.
Yes the green dream they call it. My girl had that and was fine. Only reason we will be sedating our boy even if just a sedative is because last time he needed a catheter they couldn’t get a vein and he cried and cried, my son had to leave the room as he cried so much and tried to bite me, as it was afterhours there was only the vet and I, so we gave him a sedation which made him fall asleep without an issue. The time is coming near as his FeLV has taken everything out of him. I think we will sedate him first
I live in the Netherlands and like you I searched on Google for info on dogs that cried during the sedative. Exactly the same story with my dog.
Have to find out what sedative the vet used but it’s obviously an international problem and I’m really beginning to wonder how many other pets this vet put down that ended up in severe pain.
The only comfort is that she is now in a good place.
A year ago I had to put my large Rottie down she went so peaceful, so this year I had to put down my other little Buddy a small small Pom(bother were very old and at the end of life stag). I though it would be as peaceful as my big girl, it was not. My vet regular vet was on holiday’s for a month, so I got a different vet to my home. Well this ended up to be the most traumatizing passing. The vet gave a sedation which my little dog yelped and tried to bite the vet, then we waited and my little guy still wasn’t out so the vet had to give another sedation and my poor little dog cried and cried and tried is best to get closer to me. By this time I was sick to my stomach, then we waited and finally he fell sedated and the last shot was given. The vet checked his vitals at least 4 times to make sure he was gone, I was terrified I would hear him cry again. I have such guilt now for his pain, but after reading this article and all the comments it helps. I
omg I had a similar experience recently though I don’t know what the drug was. I’ll surely have to ask now, and give her this article. My sick little Yorkie yelped in pain when injected and the so-called sedative didn’t take effect for several minutes during which the he was lookup up and all around as if in dismay.
I agree..did anyone confront the vets? I will be letting mine know about this thread and the name of the sedative..they could just use Valium. Probably not as cheap I guess.
I was so upset, I just wanted to leave.
What’s weird here is that nobody mentioned having words with the vet letting them know how horrible this was for both you and your pet! I would not have left without some very strong words reminding them that their job is to alleviate animal suffering and not to cause more! And that they strongly need to re-evaluate protocol and that you will be spreading the word.
I don’t know where you live. I live in Argentina. Vets here are mostly BEASTS, the only thing they care for is MONEY. They know it’s almost impossible to hold them liable. When you have an emergency at weekends, you can hardly find a vet. They just don’t answer the calls!
My dog, Joy, died almost 3 weeks ago. In the very end, I phoned the vet clinic to put her down. The answer was they were busy, and that I should phone again in 20 minutes.
She had a terrible end in my arms.
I finally could gather strength to go to the vet clinic and tell her vet she had passed away. The answer? (while preparing to close for lunchtime): “well, now she’s not suffering”.
They are butchers!!!
So many heartbreaking stories..I have no choice but to put my dog down due to him needing his leg amputated and can’t afford the 2000. We can’t let him live like this..what is the best sedative to ask for? I don’t want him to suffer a bit..thanks.
Never mind the name of the drug.
You should name the clinic.
And not to make you feel worse than you do, I would have never gone back there after the first time.
Amen!
I too googled dog shrieking when being put to sleep and found all of you. We’ve taken our 19 yr old shihtzu to the same vet her entire life. The last moments were supposed to be as peaceful & comforting as her last days & hours were. It’s hard enough to make the decision & go to the appointment, the last thing anyone wants is having these hunting final memories of pain. Blame, guilt, “what if we had done something different”? It’s a week later and I still blame myself for agreeing to take her to the one vet at the practice who we have the least amount of confidence in. As another person said, it’s helpful knowing that it has happened with others. Maybe it would gave been the same if another Vet had administered the drug and/or if we had the procedure done in our home. I’m hopeful that memories of her extraordinary life will start replacing the final moments sooner than later. She was one in a million ❤🌈🐾
I had my 11 you old dog Toby put down last year and I’ve seen many animals put to sleep, but never in my life have I experienced anything like he went through. He was diagnosed with lung cancer and I felt for his sake we had no choice. I expected him to be sedated and relaxed. That did not happen. When the vet injected him with the sedation, he struggled and didn’t want to be held. I finally got him in my arms and he was struggling to breath. Eventually his gums began to turn white and him tongue started hanging from his mouth. I was devastated! They opened the door a couple times and looked in for a second. After 30 minutes, he was no longer breathing, then they came in and gave him the final shot.I just wanted him to go easy. I’ll never get it out of my mind. Maybe he wasn’t ready and I forced it on him. 😢
You trusted the Vet.
Im sorry it went this way.
My prayers are with you.
I know its months later. But im readibg this because my beloved Dog of 14 had lung cancer. I chose after seisures from morphine. The whole process is disturbing and heartbreaking. Anyone who has this done to a pet is heartbroken.
Oh my, Oh my…this is what happened to my beloved special needs cat, Baby Tripod. I just can’t shake what happened, her howling at the ‘sedation’ shot in the back (spine?)…she’s never even hissed at a human, swiped or tried to bite anyone ever…she howled/screamed so loud I’ve never heard anything like it and she tried to get up (her front part of her body) and bite them. They held her down…it was beyond horrific. I failed her at the end. It haunts me and this vision keeps coming back and the ensuing part. When she was in my arms before the ‘last euthanizing part’ the actual drug her body was convulsing like she was trying to jump away and fighting it. I said ‘she’s fighting this’…and I felt absolutely horrible. He said yes she might be. He also said she may not know she’s doing it. I was in shock and just trying to stay calm. I just told her over and over again how much I loved her. She was a rescue and my promise to her was the rest of her life with me would be full of Love, Joy and Safety…always. She would always be safe with me and I’d ensure her life was filled only with love, care and Joy always. She was missing her back leg and had other physical issues when she came into my life. Before she was in my life she had quite a bit of trauma. I had her for 9 years. She was diagnosed w Kidney Failure 3 years/4 mo ago and the vet at the time said she had 3 mo…At The Very Most…1 year left. I said oh no. There has to be something. I asked if there was anything that can be done and he said No…maybe special food for renal failure.
I said no…that’s not okay…I have to get more opinions. I found another vet and they hospitalized her for a few days and gave her fluids with an IV. She bounced right back and was the happy Tripod again. I monitored her carefully over the following years, taking her to the vet when I could see she wasn’t feeling well or had a UTI. I had to smash her food and she had to eat every 3-4 hours. I did all of this happily for her. I bought a pop up timer with 2 pop up containers that sat on a blue ice pack…so at night she could eat the freshly smashed up food. She was missing most of her teeth and her stomach couldn’t digest chunks of food. I couldn’t be gone from home longer than 7 hours. If I had to travel she would go with me (and she traveled so well!). I started an online business so I could be with her too…I knew if I had a full time day job she wouldn’t have made it with my commute time too. I loved her and loved on her. I feel that’s how she made it so long with this dreaded disease and she was happy. She was still playing, jumping around, going up and down stairs, curling up with me, doing our regular routines and purring up until the last week.
The last week she stopped drinking, eating, was twitching and lost the use of her one back leg. She was also doing this thing called “head pressing” which I learned later that it’s a neurological issue and they’re suffering. She deteriorated fast the last week. She was suffering and I knew my cat…her eyes were glassy and with losing the mobility of her back leg it depressed her terribly since she was so independent and she wouldn’t eat or drink…even after having IV fluids in her for 2 days. I brought her home at night in between the 2 IV days as I knew she would have had a bad time without me. I tried everything to save/help her but I knew she was suffering at the end…so I made the Most Difficult decision of my life. I remembered my promise to her of love, joy and safety. She ‘chose’ me and I had a responsibility to her when she came into my life. I couldn’t take her back to the vet as I knew how it would upset her and it seemed so cold and sterile to me. I had them come to the home (vet and his tech…they did not know her…the vet who treated her the week before was out of the country then) I couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else but home…that it would be the most peaceful thing and loving.
I had to do a search on this as the end is haunting me sooo much…the visions over and over again at the end. I was told this would be peaceful and it was anything but. I think there needs to be more awareness out there. I always assumed this was a peaceful procedure. It never even crossed my mind this is what would happen. I don’t understand this…and am racked with these visions and so much guilt.
Jaymie – I’m so sorry for what happened to your beloved special kitty. 🙁 My sweet feline angel also had an extremely traumatizing “euthanasia” almost 4 months ago, and I am still haunted daily by the look of panic and hurt betrayal on her face, and the other horrific sights and sounds of that day. I am working on trying to make a difference now. If you’d like to talk to someone who understands completely how you feel because they’ve been through it, feel free to contact the author of this article, Jill, through her SheWhisperer or her Dog Decoder website and ask her to forward your email to me and she will do that. I feel your pain and my heart goes out to you. ❤️
Jennifer, thank you so much. I am so, so sorry for what happened with your feline angel…I wish I could change all of this, it’s so wrong and my heart goes out to you. I apologize…I did not receive a reply via email (with your note here) and I was just going through my journal of Tripod and I had saved this link while journaling a while back…I just found your heartfelt note. Thank you for extending the invitation to reach out to Jill the author and for your kindness to talk. I’m so sorry Jennifer…I understand and feel Your pain.
It is out of severe guilt and sorrow that I googled “dog cried when sedated for euthanasia” and this website came up. My little one just passed on Tuesday. My vet was very, very kind…she and her tech were suppressing tears and sniffling. She explained everything that was going to happen and how quickly the sedation would work. It just never figured into my mind or any scenario that he would yelp out in surprise and pain. I was horrified and panicking and since then have been absolutely WRACKED with grief and guilt that his last moments, he was crying – in pain? surprise? fear? I am honestly not educated enough to know if it was the pain of the shot, or the medicine going through him….I just knew he was hurting and I couldn’t stop it. I held him tightly to my chest and talked as calmly as could that mommy had him, mommy loves you so much, you are such a good boy. My darling, I have you, I have you. I love you so so much. I am not happy that I found this page, nor am I saying misery loves company, but I am glad that their are others who can articulate and feel the same emotions that are driving me to near madness in this sorrow. It is hard for my friends and family to understand my deep suffering. If there is an consolation in this at all, it is this: I recently had surgery and was given sedation in the operating room…once it started coursing through me, I was alert enough and had the presence of mind to feel completely relaxed and what a pleasure it was to let go. It felt less like falling asleep and more like diving deep into the air around me. I pray that in the few seconds I had before he fell asleep, my sweet, sweet beloved dog could hear my voice loving him and reassuring him I was right there, holding him tight.
It’s sad that so many of us are suffering such guilt and nightmares because of the last awful memories of our beloved pets. I’ve had many pets pts but this last one was the most harrowing, with my poor 16 year old westie yelping and writhing in my arms as the vet who had been treating her all her life repeatedly tried to find a vein. It goes without saying I will be changing vets.
Yep I am glad that we had issues, although not nice when they couldn’t find a vein to insert a catheter for Fluids, they had to give a sedative which seemed to cause no pain or trauma so when it is time, which is very near, to put our Nitty down we will have a sedative first
I’ve just gone through it with my westie! I’ll never get over it! How can they put our animals through so much pain, I cant sleep for thinking about what I put her through! It was murder!