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 had to put my childhood dog of 11 years down yesterday. I thought I was doing the right thing by ending his suffering. I thought it would be peaceful. It went horribly and I think I’m forever traumatized by it.
He had a multitude of problems and his body seemed to be shutting down. He was in respiratory failure and heart failure. The vet told me he can go any day now and it would be more painful for him to die at home. I spent all my time with him the last days. Made sure he had a nice, peaceful last few hours the day of. Then things went horribly wrong. The vet told me they would administer a sedative. It would take 5 minutes and he would be “laid out”. As soon as they administered the sedative I could tell something was horribly wrong. My poor baby was terrified. He screamed when he was injected and a few seconds later started looking around and moving his head back and forth like “how do I get out of here, someone help me”. It was horrifying. I tried to calm him down, I tried to tell him everything was okay. I was holding him, trying to get him to lay down. Anything. But then it just got worse. The vet came back in 5 minutes later and asked my brother and I if we were ready. I said yes because I couldn’t bear to see him in that confused, terrified state. He told me once he finished the syringe my baby would be gone. That’s when things got so traumatic. What my brother and I witnessed will never ever leave my brain. My dog was screaming as the vet struggled to put the syringe in. Once it was in and finished I thought my dog would be gone but he was screaming and sounded like he was in an extreme amount of pain and fear. The vet technician was holding him at that point and I was desperately trying to get my dog to look at me. The vet scrambled to get another dose and was shocked that it didn’t work. My poor baby’s eyes were bulging out of his head, his tongue was sticking out with his mouth shut. It sounded like he was suffocating and screaming at the same time. It was so horrible. He administered the second dose and my baby still wouldn’t go. I knew something went wrong but the vet just said “he’s a fighter, I’ll tell you that”. He went to get ANOTHER dose (my dog is only about ~25-30 lbs so I really do not understand how this could’ve happened). And at that point his was limp in the technicians arms but still making horrible horrible noises that have been HAUNTING me. The vet had called in another vet to do the third one which really solidified to me that something had gone wrong on THEIR part. They were sticking him over and over trying to find a vein that would work. They finally started the third dose and while administering it I put my head on my poor baby’s head and told him you can go now. And that’s when I saw his final heart beat. A few seconds later the vet told us “he’s gone now.” It was honestly the most horrifying experience and the worst day of my life. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I told him i was sorry over and over. I could not believe what had just happened. The vet apologized and said he had to give him the dose of a 150lb dog and seemed shocked by what had happened. He said that my dog was fighting it and “was fighting it since the sedation.” I knew everything about that was wrong. I could not believe that after all the hardships my poor baby had gone through all his life, he would have a traumatic and extremely fearful death too. He was so scared and I could tell he couldn’t even sense me there with him. I blame myself. I feel like I failed him. I tried so hard to make his last days peaceful but I just don’t feel like I did enough. I’m not sure how I’ll ever move on. I keep having dreams of looking down at his limp body in my arms. I hate myself for what happened. Even though my brother keeps trying to tell me it was only about 5 minutes of suffering and he’s at peace now, I just can’t stop crying. I feel immense guilt and pain. He had a rough life and a rough ending. I tried and I just feel so horrible about everything. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. And I’m so sorry to those of you who have experienced something similar. It truly was the most horrible thing I’ve ever witnessed.
Oh my gosh… I’m so so sorry this happened to you. My thoughts are with you.
If the freaking vet knows the injection will cause pain why would they not administer some heavy duty pain meds before the painful sedation shot? It makes no sense! I had this experience with my cat years ago and will never forgive myself for her death. She was traumatized. I now need to put down my old dog with dementia and am terrified of the same thing. I am giving him a heavy dose of pain meds before he gets euthanized. I also don’t understand the pushing of meds and treatments on an animal that will die in a few weeks anyway. They don’t understand why they are being giving injections and force fed meds. It’s knder to let them go PEACEFULLY but it seems vets are more about the almighty dollar than the pet itself. I have heard more and more stories from people about keeping very sick animals alive for weeks and months and the guilt that they did this to their pet. When I ask how much it cost to keep their pet alive in a sorry state the cost is always astronomical. Screw you money grubbing vets, do your job properly!
I am feeling the same way right now. I just had to put down my dog of 11 years. She was in to much pain due to a tumor and they told me with her now seizures that it was time. They promised she would not feel pain. She was upset the whole time but not as bad as when they gave the sedative. She started howling like her little heart was about to explode. I clung to her and cried begging for forgiveness as the vet retrieved the euthanasia and put her to sleep. Her last moments where in so much pain. I don’t think I can ever get her howls out of my head. I can’t share this with my family because I don’t want them to know she suffered and have to live with that thought. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything but relive that moment and cry.
Im astounded at the volume of various traumatic stories of putting pets ” to sleep”
Iput myboy dog 14. Lung cancer. Seisures from morphine to sleep and have cried everyday for 2 and a halfmonths scince.
The drug s. They use are horrible. I regret it …and something needs reviewed for the manber they do this. It is NOT humane. It is PAINFUL and traumatizing.
Vet practice needs reviewed. NOW!
I am so sorry for everyone’s loss. My cat was misdiagnosed with lumbar spinal pain on New Year’s Day at a well-known hospital. She had three legs, so I guess it was the obvious diagnosis. After six weeks, I returned to the hospital and got a better vet that diagnosed two brain tumors. I made the difficult choice to put her to sleep and was told they were allowing people in for euthanasia. A tech wheeled my cat into a tiny exam room, and she was still anesthetized from her MRI procedure. I waited an hour, to the point I had to ask if they had forgotten us. A doctor cracked open the door, apologized 20+ times. She was holding a machine, so I thought she was just checking in and would return. Instead, she dropped the machine on the table, and it started loudly beeping and banging. I froze – what the hell was happening? My sweet cat was euthanized by a machine. No doctor was present, not even to listen to her heart and confirm the death. I never had to do this before, so I did not know what to expect other than what friends and families experienced. I heard that loud beeping and banging in my sleep. After complaints, the hospital informed me that – due to Covid – they came up with that system to allow people inside. Really? Because I was not informed nor did I consent to that. I sat in my car while they communicated their bill. I was in the room for an hour. No one I know who has had to euthanize their pet during Covid had automated euthanasia. Covid is no excuse for a lack of communication. The experience was traumatic and not how I wanted to remember my pet.
I am so, so sorry to read and hear all these heart-breaking accounts. I have just lost my darling little dog, who was pts last Tuesday and my lovely, beautiful little boy cat, who was pts this Saturday. I like many of you were searching the net for answers. Seeing what I am reading on here I do believe I was fortunate in that I did not go through what many of you have gone through. The previous week I had taken my little dog to the vets after I think she had had a seizure. She was 18 and had doggie dementia. They said they wanted to put her down, but I grabbed her off the vets table and brought her home. Not easy to do, when you have someone standing there, who we are all brainwashed in to believing have great authority. But I listened to my gut, again not always easy to do. I am happy I did that, and had another vet at home in the end. I used the same vet a few days latter for my darling boy cat. It was ok, but I still had concerns that he didn’t pass as ‘peacefully’ as I had hoped. He was fine, but I think we all hope and expect it to be a very, very gentle transition. So why am I posting, I can hear you all shout. I am questioning whether euthanasia is the right way forward. When I was a child (oh by the way I am here in England), the farmers used to shoot any animal that was ill or old. If they know what they are doing, it is very quick and more importantly, instant with no pain or fear. I have had a cat die with me naturally and it was upsetting. It was not a calm experience. I think all of us want our loved ones to die peacefully at home, but how do we achieve this? I will not be getting any more companions for quite awhile, I don’t know if I can go through this again. But if and when I am ready, I will certainly try and find an alternative way to look after my pets at the end of the lives. And reading this forum is part of my search for some answers. Thank you to all that have shared. It certainly has helped me in my grief and also in my search for the way forward. I am a great believer in the power of herbs, which i use for myself and for my animals. May look further into that.
I recently had to put my beautiful cat Sidney down, it I am traumatized by the experience but maybe someone here can give me some insight that will make me feel better. So the vet gave her a sedative, one eyes closed the other reminded open, which after reading this seems like it’s normal to have eyes open. So after 5 mins the vet comes back in with the euthanasia shot, goes to her hind leg and can’t find a vein, they poked her about 5 times in that hind leg before her pushed the syringe in. Well it must have not gone in a vein because he rushed and got another one, as her is preparing her front leg to try again I notice her little heart beating so fast. Did she know what was going on??? If sedated I would think the heart rate would be much slower. Finally the front leg took and she passed away pretty quickly. But I can’t get the image of her heart racing after the first one didn’t take. I just want to know that she had no idea and her passing was as peaceful as possible. Even as I write this I am crying just reliving it.
I too had a nightmarish, suck the air from your chest while punching your soul in the gut experience.
It was September, feels like yesterday and I am deeply saddened by this forum and yet thankful because I thought I was alone with this “what the heck happened to the last 5min of your life” heavy guilt-ridden heart.
I think you’d agree that even a heads up about the (I am guessing?) common adverse events that will traumatize pet parents would’ve been great.
“Oh I always forget people don’t like to see their eyes open. I don’t even notice” literally watched her pupils blow and that among so much more. A boy cat who got very sick at 5yrs old, hospice came to my home, he tried to jump to the counter to get away after the shot and didnt make it which i freaked out about, then he tried to climb couch and couldn’t. Finally the vet said to ‘leave him be’ so he hid under the couch staring desperately at me while she gently pulled him out. She proceeded to hold him until he was “totally unaware of anything, not you, not me” (woulda been nice to know he cant hear me say goodbye or feel me. She put them down on the ground so that I could not pick him up without hurting him or making a mess of everything. Oh and when he tried to make the counter and slammed with his belly she said “oh valiant effort! “I was stunned into silence by this. I didn’t realize I would have under three minutes for the rest of the nightmare to transpire.
I’m so sorry for what you went through. I’m so sorry for what everyone has gone through here. I do feel a tiny bit better knowing that it wasn’t something that I did wrong. And now that I have some knowledge to work with I will do my research. Well first I will pray that I’m never in this position again!
After reading all these horror stories, I’m thinking the kindest thing would be to just do them in Old Yeller style. Or maybe never have a pet to begin with?
How can anyone justify euthanasia? Let along for your pets or companion? You say to help them so they don’t feel pain and not suffer. What if your pets would like to receive your unconditional love for them, the same way they did when they were still strong? I cannot believe a lot of you looking at euthanasia as a normal thing. It is not and I will never advise one to get it no matter what.
If I couldn’t walk, or go to the bathroom or couldn’t eat I would hope someone would euthanize me. This is the dumbest comment I’ve ever seen. My poor baby peed herself, pooped herself, wasn’t eating, could barley walk without falling over and her eyes I’ll never forget her eyes in those last few days, she was telling me she was in pain and done fighting. Please don’t ever get a pet, you clearly can’t make tough decisions.
The vet we used – we used a mobile home vet that came into our home later at night to PTS our Ari.
She rubbed some cream sedative on his lips so he was a little relaxed – waited 15 mins – then gave the sedative injection. He looked at her doing it and his hind leg but then put his head back down.
She waited and prepped his leg for the IV injection.
When he was asleep and gently snoring she then asked if she could inject him and we said yes.
It took almost 5 mins for his heart to finally stop. He had a very strong heart but he was in kidney and liver failure from lymphoma.
She left us to be with him for another 15-20mins and then brought in a little stretcher. We helped gently lay him in the stretcher and carry him out to her vehicle.
We tucked his ball in with him so he would be cremated with it.
It was very difficult but was gentle and peaceful and I will ALWAYS do it this way if we have the choice.