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 was recently adopted by a stray pregnant cat, who had six kittens. She of course birthed them in some hidden spot on my property and revealed them to me at about 5 1/2 weeks. I managed to capture them all to keep them safe in my house.
One of the kittens was very tiny and not thriving. He was the brave one of the litter, the first one that would just walk right up to me without fear. Many times I had picked him up and put him close to his mother, but he would turn around and walk right back over and sit on me instead. He was amazing. But he was obviously suffering from some health problem which I originally thought was just malnutrition from being a runt.
At 7 weeks he took a turn for the worse. I had to take him to an emergency vet just last night. They tried all night and morning to try to nurse him back to health. But to no avail, he wasn’t improving. He couldn’t stand up on his own, couldn’t regulate his own body temperature without help, pupils were two different sizes, and a host of other bad signs. We made the decision to euthanize. During the first shot, the weak little kitten suddenly stood up abruptly on all four legs. He didn’t cry out or try to run. But I was very shocked and surprised that he suddenly got up and appeared normal for a few seconds before the shot took full effect. I’ve been bothered by this all day, wondering if I had made the wrong decision, or decided too early to put him down. This article and all these comments are painful to read, but I am grateful to have found them because now I believe that what happened was the same thing everyone else is describing, that he had an unexpected reaction to the same drug.
The vet was very kind, polite, and professional. But he was also very young and I suspected probably never heard of this problem with that drug. Ultimately I know in my heart that the kitten wouldn’t have gotten better, that he would’ve continued to be weak and sickly, and ultimately I didn’t want him to suffer. But if I have to euthanize again in the future I will not go back to that clinic. I have euthanized pets at other places by other vets, and never had that reaction with an animal before. I hope that someday I can forget it enough that it won’t bother me as much as it does now.
On 9/14/22 I put my cat down. That was nine days ago. She was a 16 year old rescue that I had for 15 years. Her name was Abby. My vet took her and put a IV line (cannula) in her front leg and taped it in place.. I’m sure she was scared but she was very sick. She was out my sight for two minutes and they brought her back into the room. The vet came in and shot her up with an anesthetic which put her out and then told me to open the door when I was ready for the final shot of pentobarbital. After crying and petting her for about 10 minutes I regained my composure and said it’s time. It was quick and painless. I have had three dogs put down in my life and none were sedated. All were just put down with Fatal-Plus. They are gone in 10 seconds max, the drug works quickly. Know your vet and what they use. If it’s blue it’s called Fatal-Plus and if it’s pink it’s Euthasol. My vet has always used Fatal-Plus. Anyway the meds always go into a vein which is drawn for blood and then flushed with saline so they know they have a vein. Many years ago my sister had an experience with her cat that echoes what I have read in these posts. For everyone that feels or felt guilty, you had no idea that it would go badly. Forgive yourself, you didn’t know that would happen.
My cat went as peacefully as possible and I’m still in a haze after 9 days.
I just put my beloved Maltese down September 9th and I am not in very good shape to talk about it yet. I just cry and feel so guilty that he had such a terrible death. It took about two hours for him to pass. He hurt his leg so I took him to the vet hospital. He had an enlarged heart since he was 10 years old and I gave him vetmedin twice a day and lasix and benazapril too. He was in my bed with me 24 hours a day and I loved him more than anything in the world. I asked the vet to sedate him before he put the drug in him to stop his heart. He put a catheter in both front legs and said he couldn’t get his veins after 2 shots and Bubba sat upright both times and they took him to the other room and brought him back to me and then they shaved his chest and put about 2 more shots in there which made him puke 2 times and the vet said he would. I was crying and in shock and I wanted to take him and run out of there but wasn’t sure if he would die in the process. The vet said he never saw anything like that before and I think he was in a hurry. He came back in and gave him more shots and then one or 2 in his heart. My baby was still breathing a little through his nose and his tongue was hanging out. I called the main veterinary office and told them what happened and they said the other vet that put my other dog down before was on vacation and she did a wonderful job and my other dog went quickly and painlessly. I can’t stop crying and I don’t know if my baby suffered a lot of pain And I will never forgive myself for not taking him home with me. I wish I could do something to hurt the vet the way he hurt my baby. I am afraid he will hurt another pet like he did mine.
I’ve read all the very sad horror stories here. I think we should be doing something about this….bringing lawsuits against these doctors, broadcasting these stories across the internet, tell everyone you know, and anything else we can think of. Our sweet pets/animals deserve much better than this.
The lesson here that I recently learned with my dog at a vet hospital is follow your gut and listen to it. If someone hurts your pet do not go back, ever. I took my dog to a hospital and after a cursory exam and zilch history, comes in to say “Your dog is critical and is going to die” I told her if she expects the dog to die I do not want her treating him. The dog did die in one hour. The dog was under so much stress, hemorrhagic diarrhea and urinating on himself from stress, he died suddenly, not even from the reason I brought him there. My dog was able to walk, jump out of the car, was not breathing hard, not vomiting, not foaming at the mouth. He had probably an irregular heartbeat and tachycardia which she totally missed. I asked her how much experience she had and she said “I’m not telling you” I found out later she was trained in Canada and had less than a year experienced. My dog was tortured and died alone. I should have followed my gut and taken him home soon as she said he was going to die. I brought him there to be treated and if she thought he was going to die (my local vet said he would have given the dog lasix and he would be fine but the emergency vet was a white coat nincompoop . Then she racks up a 900 dollar bill when she said he was going to die. So follow the gut folks, it picks up stuff our brains push aside
Hello, the pre-euthanasia anesthetics are only supposed to be delivered intravenously. Due to their pH, they are never supposed to be injected into the animals muscle, as this causes an extreme burning sensation.
If the IV slips out of the vein, the solution will touch the tissue, and this will burn as well.
From what I understand, the pre-euthanasia anesthetics are used for ease of pet parents, as they are supposed to reduce the animal’s bodily reactions to the euthanasia. From what I’ve read, they burn/hurt more than the euthanasia itself.
The single dose euthanasia without the PreMix anesthetics is more humane. It also should only be given intravenously and only in the muscle if the animal received prior anesthetics, as these too would cause a burning sensation/pain when given injected into the muscle.
I took my cat for euthanasia yesterday, I’m distressed wondering if she really died. right after giving the sedative in a few seconds the vet moved on to the final injection. He gave two doses of the final injection. I stayed with her for about 10 minutes and then the woman came to collect. I feel stupid for not changing my mind and taking the cat with me and looking at him for hours to confirm he passed away. Can anyone reading my story tell me how long it took for the doctor to certify the death? Can you tell if saliva came out of your mouth in the next few minutes?
They normally use their stethoscopes.
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.