I told the folks on Twitter about our decision to euthanise Casey right after I hung up from the Vet. Something about typing an event makes it more grounded in my mind–a life lived on the keyboard, I reckon.
We’ll be taking him in on
Saturday morning Friday evening. We’ve decided to leave him there and not be with him for the injection. I had always thought–until I read about the procedure’s nuts and bolts–that I’d hold my animal children as they passed away. However having read that they tend to groan, urinate and defecate as their muscles relax I decided that those dreams would haunt me forever and I couldn’t let that be my last memory. We’ve also decided to have him individually cremated so we can receive the ashes and sprinkle them under the weeping willow tree where he spent all his time (and once got sprayed by a skunk).
The call to the vet’s office where I discussed all this was quite possibly the grisliest conversation I’ve ever had with another human being. Not the vet’s fault–they were kind, understand and professional. I guess I’m just not accustomed to talking about what to do with earthly remains, etc.
In some ways the decision was a hard one to make, but I’ll be honest–I’m kind of relieved. I’ve known for 9 years this moment was coming, and now that it’s here I know it’s time. Casey has declined so rapidly that you can almost see him wasting away before your very eyes. By the time we made the decision this evening–8 hours after we left our vet with bottles of narcotic palliatives (for the dog) he was able to do little more than lift his head, whimper and cry. And that’s with a full load coursing through his system. There is no kindness in prolonging this.
As I told him an hour ago–there are many kinds of okay, and soon you will be the best kind of okay there is.
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well