I did not even study my choices when, last Christmas, the dilemma came for me to spend $4,000 to rescue my favorite pet's life with a surgery. He was just 3 years old, and though the damage to his stomach was severe, I was confident he would be okay.
Not long afterwards, I saw blood when he went outside to urinate. My veterinarian, a good friend of ours, suggested a new battery of tests, but a fortnight after our appointment, Carl was unable to stand up from his nap. He was apt to lift up his head to look at me with his big brown eyes, but he had been paralyzed by a spinal seizure, and he couldn't manage to do any other thing independently.
This caused me great woe. Despite the fact that each day in hospice care saw his condition diminish, I could not lose faith and even sought canine wheelchairs. I couldn't forget that nothing - absolutely nothing - could give him the kind of life he ought to have. But I still wanted him to stay forever.
I was bereaved, but not powerless. I was able to make a decision because I was cognizant of every one of my choices.
Merely because you're here, I am certain that you strive to arrive at the correct decision, and that you have deep feelings for your animal. However, where do you start?
As is the case with every personal issue, dying is dealt with in a unique way by everyone, however having a roadmap to help you find the right path can be important Your decisions determine how you get there, and knowing all the options takes away a bit of that apprehension and hurt you feel in the moments preceeding that end.
A family friend shared an invaluable resource shortly before I lost Carl - Dr. Pat Bradley's book, More Than a Pet. After reading it, I felt informed enough to do the best thing. If you want to be positive you're making a decision that reflects your world view, I suggest you read this book or one like it.
Not long afterwards, I saw blood when he went outside to urinate. My veterinarian, a good friend of ours, suggested a new battery of tests, but a fortnight after our appointment, Carl was unable to stand up from his nap. He was apt to lift up his head to look at me with his big brown eyes, but he had been paralyzed by a spinal seizure, and he couldn't manage to do any other thing independently.
This caused me great woe. Despite the fact that each day in hospice care saw his condition diminish, I could not lose faith and even sought canine wheelchairs. I couldn't forget that nothing - absolutely nothing - could give him the kind of life he ought to have. But I still wanted him to stay forever.
I was bereaved, but not powerless. I was able to make a decision because I was cognizant of every one of my choices.
Merely because you're here, I am certain that you strive to arrive at the correct decision, and that you have deep feelings for your animal. However, where do you start?
As is the case with every personal issue, dying is dealt with in a unique way by everyone, however having a roadmap to help you find the right path can be important Your decisions determine how you get there, and knowing all the options takes away a bit of that apprehension and hurt you feel in the moments preceeding that end.
A family friend shared an invaluable resource shortly before I lost Carl - Dr. Pat Bradley's book, More Than a Pet. After reading it, I felt informed enough to do the best thing. If you want to be positive you're making a decision that reflects your world view, I suggest you read this book or one like it.
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