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 too had a horrendous experience when my 18 year old Bengal cat was euthanised. He was sedated twice because the doses were not working, but he was still able to push the vets hand away as the final euthanasia drug was injected through the cannula. I felt helpless looking on as there was no way back after the second sedation. I am haunted by the memory of my cat who had the strength to push away the vets hand in his last moments. When the euthanasia drug was given to my cat he stretched and contracted his body violently at least ten times as the final euthanasia dose was taking effect. I was horrified. I looked on helplessly as my faithful companion retched, and then he was dead. The vet said that the convulsions were normal. I noticed that my cat had scratched her arms where he had struggled with her when she had taken out the back to put the cannula in. He was a docile cat normally. The whole euthanasia process took an hour from beginning to end, as the vet could not find a vein to get the cannula in. I took my deceased cat home in his cat carrier. I was asked to leave by the back door. I still see those last moments in my mind and I continually say I’m so sorry to my cat’s memory, to his photograph, and I feel so guilty that I did not arrange a more gentle ending for him and for me. I do not think I will ever get over this experience. He died in early January 2022. Our pets are part of our family and deserve better than this. Next time, I will find a home euthanasia vet who is gentler and more understanding of the pet and me.
I do the same thing, apologize to my dog for taking him to the hospital where he died without me. I too had the perfect euth planned when it was time. The experience compounds the grief of a euthanasia done right. When they hurt our pets and screw up, it is impossible to unring that bell which is the part that I cannot forgive myself for. We are too trusting of some of these vets. They do not all have compassion. Are they numb from doing this all the time BTW, I had a very bad experience with a mobile vet so do not assume they are any better. I asked the vet who was called here at 10:30 PM, got her out of bed, she was cranky. I told her I wanted to be holding my dog and she pulled out the needle . pulled him out of his crate and gave him the shot that rendered him to fall, instantly stop breathing and looked dead. Beware of home vets, please. The vet boards do not care about bedside manner. The dog that died at the hospital was old and I could get over if he died but the way the nasty vet treated me, I am sure she treated him roughly too with no fear free training either at this hospital. They use drugs, drugs and more drugs so the dogs are zombies and don’t care how they are handled. I will not take my dog to a vet who is not empathetic. Then I write them long letters and tell them how they should go sell real estate and stop working with pets
I rescued my tiny chihuahua (5 lb), Daisy, when she was only 4 weeks old. Years later, her euthanasia was totally traumatic. I had a hospice vet come to my house because I thought it would be the most peaceful way but I have never been more wrong. The first sedative shot caused her to scream and convulse for about 15 minutes while the vet watched quietly and while I wept and wept and ended up screaming at the vet to “just kill her now” :(. The vet gave her another of the same shot but it caused absolute torture for my poor girl: she wailed, writhed, screamed her little heart out, and nothing I could do helped – in fact my own wailing probably traumatized her more if she even noticed me. She was out of her mind, suffering so terribly. This torture went on for over half an hour and it took a THIRD shot to simply sedate her, but not before about 15 more minutes of screaming, jerking, flailing, heaving, wrenching her head and legs at weird angles – it was unbelievably awful. I was lying on the floor hysterical, begging the vet to kill her, even just to break her neck so she didn’t have to suffer like this. The vet just sat there on the floor next to us watching.
The final shot for the actual euthanasia ended up working quickly but the whole terrible process took about an hour. I’ve had to put down many animal companions over the years and I’ve never seen anything but peaceful deaths. This was unfathomable and 3 years later I still feel horribly guilty for causing her to suffer – it makes my soul hurt just to think about it. The next day I contacted the hospice vet to ask whether or not Daisy was actually in physical pain and conscious, because I wanted to believe she might not have been “present” but I was kidding myself. The vet said some dogs react this way when the sedative causes them to dissociate and she thought Daisy was unconscious, but I know the truth. Later when I asked my regular vet about it, he said the hospice vet missed the veins and put the sedative in her muscules instead, so it took almost an hour to have any effect other than pure suffering. My poor, lovely tiny girl :(. I am still haunted by this….
Our hearts are broken. We had to put our sweet German Shepard to sleep. The whole experience was horrific. She didn’t fall sleep with the 1st shot.. She had seizures, her eyes were wide open. She drooled, had her tongue out, gasp for air 🙁 The vet said she gave her a sedative/tranquilizer along with an opioid for pain control first. My question is why the vet didn’t put her to sleep as if my dog was going in for surgery? Why she had to give her a heavy sedative cocktail? Was this mixture that caused our dog to have those effects?
A friend said that perhaps my dog reacted this way to the 1st shot bc her nervous system was taxed as she was in so much pain. I would like to have some answers so I can have some closure please 🙁
I keep playing this image of our girl in my head and it hurts so much.
I read pretty much every comment here and wish so much there was some kind of group where we could all talk about our experiences bc even though my kitty’s experience was TERRIBLE, I feel better knowing I’m not the only pet mommy who feels tremendous guilt for bing implicit in their pets TORTURE!
I do rescues so I went and got a stray who someone who was feeding it realized it had a bleeding paw. So I said I will help bc the person who was feeding it didn’t have any money for a vet. I took him to a vet I have been to before. It turned out he had a huge growth in the back of his throat and ulcers on his front gums and would likely need to be on steroids the rest of his life if they even worked. Because he had such severe health problems and he was a black male cat, it was very unlikely anyone would ever adopt him so we decided on euthanasia.
The doctor gave him the sedative and that was bad enough bc the way they grab them to hold them down is pretty brutal and he was such a sweet kitty. Just so very sweet, sobbing as I write this. So then maybe all of 5 mins later the vet comes in to give the final shot and I said well he isn’t very sleepy can you give him another shot and the vet said no and tried to give him the final shot. I was horrified, but it all happened so fast and what do I know, he’s the vet. But now that I look back on it I am enraged that he would not give the kitty time to get fully relaxed and almost asleep! So, what happened next was he couldn’t get the shot in his leg bc he was wide awake! So, the vet just left the room, said nothing to me, just left me there holding this poor, sweet kitty who is being MANHANDLED! Then, he comes back in and says nothing , just jabs the kitty in the back leg and leaves! He said on the way out that’s what you wanted. Well, I know he was mad and he gave the kity waaaaay too much medicine bc within a minute, he threw up! I yelled for the dr. bc I thought the growth in the back of his throat was causing him to suffocate and the doctor said, yeah, they’ll do that, that’s what you wanted! Then, the kitty was piteously crawling on the floor, dragging his hind legs and he pooped this huge mess and landed paralyzed with his face 2″ from that stench it was very, very bad. So, I yelled for the nurse and they said oh that’s alright but I kept saying it needs to be cleaned up! Well, by the time they got him his final shot he was literally practically dead already and let me tell you if you have a drug that makes you so violently ill that you puke and then poop, your body is in major PAIN!
So, that’s how I came across this article bc even though I had that sweet baby only overnight, I still love him very much and I’m sick that all his suffering as a stray and he finally gets help but it’s TORTURE! I am having difficulty getting over this bc of the guilt I feel and also just the extreme worry that his poor , dear little thing went through that it should have been gently drifting off! I feel sick!
I am so sorry, Melissa. I hope that time will heal. xx Sally
I just want to add our story to this long list. Maybe it starts people questioning empty promises from vets that there’s “no pain”. I for sure will never ever again agree with another euthanasia in my life and start researching other methods, maybe only very good palliative care. I second-quessed it in the first place, but unfortunately didn’t follow my gut, and now I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. We had the same traumatic experience with the first injection. He cried so loud, for the first time in his life (13yo), and even tried to bite at the injection site. I’ve come to the conclusion that pet euthanasia is not exaclty what’s being promised, and I’m now left with a huge regret. I just wanted a good death for my friend and spare him a lot of pain and suffering from his last days of fighting cancer, but instead caused him the most traumatic experience in his life; and myself, left alone with doubts, pain and regret for the rest of my life.
I too just had my best friend 13yo cat euthanized because of the pain he was dealing with and was urged by the vet that it was the best decision. I came online to see if anyone else has had an experience like mine. Absolutely NOTHING like what I’ve been told or even close to what they “warned” me could happen. It’s was horrendous and has left me heart broken and filled with guilt for what i put my handsome boy through. The fear and pain in his eyes will haunt me. It was absolutely awful.
My beautiful doggie, Wrigley, just died last Monday. It was the most traumatic thing I’ve ever gone through. It was NOT the peaceful process I was promised. After the first injection, he started crying, howling, panting, and biting. He tried to bite both myself and the vet, who seemed really shocked by his behavior. I cried and held him down, apologizing profusely for what I’d done to him, then I begged the vet to “Please, finish this,” and she administered the next shot as he fell limp in my arms. I’m haunted by his last moments and guilt stricken that I made that choice for him.
Someone needs to do more research!!!
My cat appeared to be in excruciating pain and she fought and was crawling to try to get away and choking and stressfully crying!!!
Is it a lie when Google and everyone says peacefully put to sleep?
My cat was not asleep! She was awake until she died!!!
why on earth would you take another pet to that same place? jeez how much of an idiot can you be?
I want to cry and scream at the vet who was present at my Buffys last moments. But I know this won’t bring him back. Me and my family were there and the vet could see the pain she was putting him through by putting the catheter in, but she wouldn’t stop. I don’t understand why she couldn’t of just gave him shots instead. She didn’t explain anything, just cold and quiet. I had to step out of the room and have my Mother hold him because of the sounds he was making. By the time I got back in he was already taking his last breath. They said he died in my arms, but I still feel my goodbye was taken from me. After the whole thing, she just left and didn’t say anything. I’m so hurt and guilt-ridden… I feel I will never heal.
I hope you are feeling some peace now. I too just went through this. Had never heard anything about euthanasia going poorly. What happened was like nothing I had ever seen. It felt like a seen from a movie. Absolutely horrible and I don’t know how i will forgive myself. I’m disgusted at the vet.
I just put my beloved cat of 16 years down, and it was awful and traumatic for her. She cried at the first shot and tried to jump off table. I put her on ground, and she then started vomiting. She was trying to get away while throwing up and losing the mobility in her hind legs. She was using her front legs to crawl. We finally grabbed her but the trauma was experienced. I expected a peaceful transition, but was completely horrified and heartbroken. I loved her like no other animal, and she loved me. I feel like I betrayed her. I am devastated. That was the first cat I had to do that to and NEVER again will I do it. I am lost without her.
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