The Relief (and Grief) of Making the Decision to Talk Euthanasia With Our Vet

Hi, I’m Nicole! Read my introduction to learn more about me and my distinguished Burmese, Mr. Baby Cat.

Last week I discussed the inner dilemma we were facing when it came to talking to our vet about euthanasia for Baby Cat. The discussion means accepting that his time with us in physical form is nearing an end, and life without our little boy just doesn’t make sense.

Well, the universe has a strange way of putting pieces into place, even if they don’t seem to make sense at the time. When Machado had his emergency surgery last week, we had to go to a different veterinary clinic. They were amazing and explained everything from a purely medical/scientific perspective without emotion attached, which was something we had been missing regarding Baby Cat’s health over the past year. Don’t get me wrong, our regular vet was caring for Baby, but having emotion so entrenched in the conversation felt like we could not make the right decisions for Baby Cat.

Close to a week after his surgery, Mac developed a slight infection around his stitches, which meant we had to book a vet appointment pretty urgently. This forced us to book a visit for Baby Cat at the same time.

A part of me felt a strange relief when I picked up the phone to schedule the appointment and start the conversation. It wasn’t relief in the traditional sense, but rather the kind that comes with knowing I was taking a step toward easing his suffering. The decline in his health has been gradual over the past few years, but we’ve seen a drastic change in a short period, and it’s breaking our hearts.

Still, that relief is tangled with so much paradoxical grief. I find myself avoiding the emotion, getting a lump in my throat over the smallest things. Baby Cat wants to be beside me but doesn’t want to cuddle me. He must be in pain, this is not usual for him.

The way he looks up at me with his cloudy, trusting eyes, but there is no purr to go along with it, and the look isn’t now trusting me with his survival, it is trusting me to guide him, and be brave with him. He doesn’t seem scared, he just seems ready.

This is all a bit hard to write, so I am going to break it up. The appointment is tomorrow, and of course, we are hoping for a miracle, but we are preparing to say goodbye. We still have to discuss this with our toddler, who is well aware of Baby’s health situation, but we don’t know how well she will understand the process.

I plan to document the process so I can hopefully share some wins and areas with room for improvement to help any of you reading this who may be going through the process at the same time as we are. It could also help any of you who have a cat because if you’re lucky, you’ll go through this process at some point. A geriatric cat is a blessing and we can’t believe how blessed we have been to have Baby beside us for so many years. As always, we want to do right by him, and right now, the best thing I can do as a parent is be brave and accept that he is getting ready to cross the rainbow bridge and earn his angel wings.