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.
We made the decision to put our Goldendoodle, Annibelle out of her pain yesterday. She had lung cancer and had been getting progressively worse. She began to have trouble breathing to the point of constant panting that morning. She refused food when she normally loves her meals. She was able to walk into the vet appointment and walked around the yard with us before we took her to the vet. Our vet and the vet tech were very kind. They took her to the back room to put a catheter in her front leg. During that brief time, she went down hill much further. She was limp and unable to walk or stand when they carried her back to us. I lifted her head and looked into her eyes seeing that she was still with us, but very, very close to death. The vet checked her heart and said she was in cardiac arrest, and immediately injected the euthanasia drug as she was clearly, quietly struggling. She then closed her eyes and stopped breathing completely in about 10 seconds. My husband and I were surely devastated at her death, but feel that the vet and tech did all they could to help her pass quickly and to end her suffering. I feel she went down hill when we were separated from her during the placement of the catheter. She must have been scared and it could have caused her cardiac involvement. We learned that we probably should have done this a day or two earlier, however she so clearly wanted to be with us, we didn’t have the heart to part with her. We brought her home and buried her in a small, shady grove on our land behind our home with the bunnies and quail she loved to watch with us. I feel horrible for all those who have had such a horrible experience. Ours was not what we expected, but we felt comfortable that Annibelle passed away peacefully. If I could change anything, I would have asked that the catheter be placed in the room where we were and not had her moved away from us. We regret that, and will never let our pets leave our side if we again have to face this with our other pets.
I too like the writer of this blog experienced hell when I recently put down my beloved Cooper Maxwell (cat- all black). My vet gives two shots in euthansizing an animal, one a sedation to relax them, and then the final one to end their life. My veterinarian injects the sedation in between a cat’s shoulder blades. But in doing so to my cat, while that injection was going into his system, before she even finished the cat was trying to pull away from the vet’s needle of her pumping the syring of medication into him. As she was walking out the door, my cat went spastic with a “power he hadn’t displayed ever before by thrust himself backward almost off the end of the table. It was very hard holding my cat down on the table to get him to lay down and be comfortable. Instead it was horrifying watching the reaction from this sedation. It was hard trying to hold him and prevent him from falling off the table as he was definitely trying to get away leaping upward and forward out of my arms, flailing to get out of them and away from me. I have never witnessed a cat behaving this way from getting a sedative before the final injection of putting him to sleep forever. This was very frightening. When the doctor came in, she came in witha new doctor to her practice to do the final injection, and in seconds he was permanently gone. After going through this many times in my head and seeing the reaction my cat gave me from this is imbeded in my mind for life. Instead of relaxing him, she caused him more excruciating pain! I wrote a letter to my veterinarian regarding what I witnessed a day later after I had brought him in. I recall when she initially came in with the medication to sedate him, she said that the medication she was going to inject into him could easily kill a 60 pound dog. My thought afterwards is this shouldn’t be a shot of “one size fits all” in how they will react! to it. Instead of a peaceful transition to the next world which we all want for our pets, this was a very frightening and horrific one! I will never forget this and I have had cats in the past euthansized before with no problem. I don’t think vets take into consideration that every animal is an individual, just like every human is and it becomes very cold and calculating for them. This shot is not “one stop shopping for ingredients for all pets” and shouldn’t be treated as such. When I brought my cat in to get put down, he was very frail and only weighed 7 lbs at 13 years old; loosing weight due to Cancer and Hyperthyroidism. His weight alone should have been taken into consideration, versus loading him up with a medication in a shot that could kill a 60 pound dog when a cat only weighs 7 lbs! This shot should have not been a one size shot that fits all for every animal that you are putting down. I am tempted to write a letter to the Medical Board of Veterinarians for this very reason. No compassion with some veterinarians anymore, just shoot him up with medication and kill them, who cares if they die painfully or not…it’s just another animal that brings in money to their practice!
I am so devastated I don’t know what to do. Today passes exactly 3 weeks from euthanasia of our cat because of mouth cancer, exactly today she would have been 13 years old. The reaction after first injection will haunt me for life, guilt will never pass and this will remain the biggest regret of my life. I am so sorry that I did not find this page sooner, I wouldn’t have made the decision. Why does everyone promise ”peacefull sleep” when she was in so much pain that I think dying naturally from cancer would hurt less?? I am so sad.
I have to agree with you there, that probably dying of Cancer would have hurt less, just like what happened to my cat, Cooper Maxwell who I put down last week for Cancer and Hyperthyroidism. The pain I witnessed with my cat from the first injection is imbeded in my mind for life in what I witnessed!! Just like you, it will haunt me for the rest of my life and the biggest regret of my life…his passing will never be forgotten or heal. Veterinarians, I think have become cold and calused for the many times that they put down an animal that they fail to realize not every cat or dog that they inject is going to react the same…and depending on the weight of the animal and how much pain they are in, the amount of that syringe should be adjusted accordingly, one size does not fit all circumstances or all pets in the final outcome. I know in my heart-of-hearts that my cat did not transition to the next world painless and the whole point of euthansizing them is for that very reason – our way of allowing them to go to the next world peacefully with no pain!
This happened to my 21 year old cat Fluffy when I put her down a few days ago. We opted not to use sedation as the vet said that older cats have such small veins that makes it difficult to inject the euthanasia drug, and that sedation would exacerbate the problem. She had a very similar reaction to your cat. It was intensely painful for her, and it was a miserable, terrifying end with nothing peaceful about it. I’m so sick at heart that she suffered so much.
I have been reading everyone’s story about having a pet put down. Sorry for everyone’s Loss
I had to have my 16 year old Minpin put down on 4-20-2020. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do they gave him a shot to sedative shot to relax him he let out one little yellop and then we took him back to the back room where the vet laid a blanket on the table for him I cried so hard telling him I Loved him. And didn’t want him to hurt no more. We spent ahalf hour talking to him and tell him we Loved him and the vet came in and put a IV in his back leg. And he was gone with in a few minutes he went peacefully. But I can’t get over this.all I do is cry. I miss him so much. He had a mass on his Brain and he started bleeding through the nose and there was nothing that could be done he wouldn’t eat he lost weight. But I just feel like I killed him. I have never had to have a animal put to sleep. I still have 3 dogs. But just not the same.
I had to say good bye to my baby boy and was told it would be a peaceful time, but he felt pain I was holding and he nearly jumped out of my arms and he scratched my face when they gave it to him and it hurts me so much that he felt pain, I can’t sleep because I hear the vets voice saying it’s not going to be painful and him jumping and scratching me… all they cared about was getting a first aid to look at the scratch but I was just so annoyed and hurt they took away a peaceful moment away from me, I’m struggling so much she kept saying that if he did feel it it was for a breaf moment, I know he felt it he never scratched me unless he was in pain…
So many of us are in a state of panic when we reach this point.
I hope that anyone reading ahead of that awful time will remember to
1) be sure of the vet–there are a lot of bad vets out there
2) research all the drugs
3) ask about the whole process and what could go wrong
4) get an anti-anxiety for the pet and possibly for you
5) don’t let anyone rush you
I had Lap of Love come to the house. While the vet seemed to be a kind and most importantly to me, a gentle person, she did rush me and did not suggest I spend time with my pet first. I had been told there was a 15 minute interval between the sedative and deep sleep–there wasn’t.
Still, I feel fortunate to have had this done at my house–my regular vet was “too tired” to come out when I called, during husiness hours, even though this is a service they provide and I live less than 5 miles from the clinic. I suppose there was no need to make an effort since I would no linger be a client.
Lap of Love charges a lot of money. Still, they provided incredible support when I would call to schedule, ask questions, cancel, and call back.
I do not know what sedative they used–one of my many, many mistakes–but the vet said it might sting. My pet shivered a tiny bit at the needle insertion but showed no other sign of pain.
Add me to the list. Horrific. I have had pets euthanized before and it was never this bad. Whatever they used that drug should be banned.
I have had several dogs put to sleep from old age illnesses and they never once cried or struggled. They got very sleepy and then they were gone. It really does matter which Vet you use. Do some calling around and also talk to friends and family.
And no wonder vets decide to commit suicide day by day due to the stresses and responsibilities or their job; with higher and higher expectations and slander online from clients.
Do you really think the vet could of predicted what would happen during the injection process? No one could.
Do you think the vet gets joy out of knowing they have hurted your animal when they spend sleepless nights and long shifts trying to fix and do everything in their power to help your animals? Ofcourse not
Yes sometimes animals can behave in a manner that no one can predict and that is not the vets fault. Yes I agree the vet maybe shouldn’t of used the same protocol as previous; but maybe he thought due to it being a dog rather than a cat hopefully the outcome would be different. I’m sure he didn’t like knowing the pet wasn’t in complete comfort during the process and it wouldn’tof been intentional- but sometimes animals do react from injections.
Maybe spare a thought for the people working day by day doing their best trying to help animals; and also get upset when they lose their patients. Rather than bashing them online.
I sympathize with the fact that performing euthanasias must be the worst part of a veterinarian’s job, but with the volume of comments to this article, this horrific reaction to the sedative injection doesn’t seem to be the exception to the rule.
If this is the case, then alternative protocols need to be used that are in the best interest of each individual pet. It seems that veterinarians are using the IM route to produce the fastest onset of action, regardless of the pain it might cause to the animal and emotional trauma to the owner. I think if the risk was explained, most pet owners would opt to wait out the effects of an oral or subcutaneous medication rather than inflict such pain at what is already a heartbreaking time.
Had I known this might happen to my poor girl, I would’ve asked that she be given an oral sedative/pain medication instead. You can be certain that I will never, ever forget this experience, her terrified scream has been burned into my memory for all eternity. I just pray that she can forgive me and knows that I only wanted to give her a peaceful end to her pain.
Heartbreaking to read so many stories of euthanasia gone wrong. I want to say thank you for sharing this information. I used these experiences to make a decision on my cat who passed on Friday. The vet I went to had a 5-injection process that was wonderfully fear-free. They inserted a catheter first into my cat’s leg. That was really the only uncomfortable part for her. Next, they gave her pain meds and she spent her final moments purring and pain-free. We spent 30 minutes with her in that euphoric state before the vet injected the anesthesia, then the euthanasia, and two more syringes of saline to flush the medications. This is now the standard I will hold for any animals I will have to put down in the future. My heart goes out to everyone who had to endure distress in their pet’s final moments.