I HAVE owned small dogs all my adult life. They have been the most delightful companions and family pets. Unfortunately, like us, dogs reach the end of their life. They don’t often die naturally and peacefully at home. More usually, complex end-of-life issues often push their owners to have them humanely put down.
Our most recent pet was no different. Heading towards her 15th birthday, she had rapid-onset canine cognitive dysfunction syndrome (doggy dementia). In addition she was deaf, was going blind and had a collapsing trachea. She had recently started to soil the house on a daily basis, slept all day and was awake all night. She had distanced herself from us, wouldn’t be touched, wouldn’t be groomed, and cried and paced around incessantly, sometimes for hours at a time.
The time to relieve her suffering had come. This is a decision that a pet owner never takes lightly. Unless it is a medical emergency requiring immediate action, it is agonised over. Following a weekend of no sleep, we decided the kindest option was to have our dog put to sleep.
After a lot of research we booked into the nearest vet, located at the back of a pet superstore. We chose them for many reasons including ease of access and parking, and excellent online reviews. The reviews stated that following a euthanisation, distraught owners could leave by a back door to avoid walking through a busy shop or waiting room. This was a major plus for us. We communicated in advance the reasons why we had booked the appointment and everything was agreed in advance, or so we thought.
We arrived for our appointment and what followed was horrendous. The experience could not have been worse even if it had been engineered and choreographed. Everything that could possibly go wrong in terms of clinical care and customer service did so, and it has left us with lasting harm.
Our dog was able to walk into the surgery and was quiet, but this did not mean that she was well. She paced round and round the room. That was because she had not the slightest clue of where she was. All of this was an indication of how severe her mental illness was.
The vet briefly examined her and said: ‘I’m not going to do it.’ In his opinion the dog had ‘a couple of months more life left in her’. When my wife asked why he would not put our pet to sleep, he said: ‘I come from a different country and religion from you, and life is precious.’ He said he was from Istanbul, Turkey.
The vet proposed a cocktail of drugs: steroids, anti-dementia drugs and painkillers, each with their own risks and side effects. None offered a cure, but would simply delay the inevitable by possibly a few weeks or months. His proposal was not in the best interests of the animal or its owners, even if it would satisfy his religious beliefs or perhaps prolong the income stream for the vets.
After some discussion he left the consulting room to take advice from his colleagues. Seven minutes later he returned and stated: ‘My colleagues agreed with you, but could see my point of view. I will now carry out the euthanisation.’
At this point my wife, who was now totally distressed, told the vet that she didn’t trust him and that she wanted to withdraw from the consultation. Most regrettably, I intervened and agreed with the vet to carry out the procedure.
What followed the botched consultation was a botched euthanisation. I can only believe this happened because the situation had become so stressful and the vet was working under duress. In brief,a cannula was inserted into the dog’s right leg (without sedation), but not properly and the lethal drugs were administered under the skin rather than into the bloodstream. After much discussion the process was repeated in the dog’s other leg. In total our dog took 22 minutes to die. My wife found the whole process extremely traumatising.
Without any doubt, the vet allowed his cultural and religious beliefs to cloud his professional judgment, and this led to a breakdown in the customer relationship and consultation process. It is my view that just because vets can offer a pharmaceutical option, this may not necessarily be right for the pet and its owner, especially in complex cases such as dementia. If the owner does not want to accept such a solution this does not mean they are a bad owner. Veterinary practice has evolved immensely over the last 30 years, but too often it prolongs a period of very poor quality of life. Quantity and quality must be carefully balanced.
This experience has not only destroyed what little faith we had in modern veterinary care, it has left us damaged, my wife with PTSD and myself with chest pains. The vet made the inevitably upsetting end-of-life experience with our pet far worse. It has left us feeling depressed and feeling like murderers. I am sure we will recover in time, but we (and others) should never be put through this.
If the euthanasia had been carried out from a basis of peaceful support rather than being confounded by religious beliefs and/or profit motive and suspicion of our motives, the outcome would have been the same for our pet, but we would have avoided the lasting distress the whole process has caused us.
I wonder how many of you reading this have experienced similar or worse? Or perhaps you have a pet whose life is being extended by pharmaceutical intervention, continuing a life of very poor quality . . . but for whose benefit?
