Somewhat unexpectedly, I just had to put down my kitty, Sid, my best friend of 15 years. Her kidney disease finally came calling and she went downhill fast. I agonized about what to do, finally recognizing that it was time. Unfortunately our vet couldn’t make a home visit for at least five days. I knew she wouldn’t make it that long. I desperately didn’t want to have to bring her into the office for this so I found a vet who could come right away. For some reason, I had a bad feeling about this—not knowing who was coming into my home. While she was a calm cat, she didn’t love when new (disruptive) people came into the house.

By this day she was pretty wiped out—comfortably sleeping most of the time, lifting her head for pets or to get up for some water. I wanted her to stay like that, very mellow, when the guy arrived (I so wanted this to be easy for her), so as a precaution, not knowing if he’d be quiet or barrel on in, on the advice of a vet tech friend, I gave her a small dose of ativan.

She didn’t seem to have a paradoxical reaction, she was relaxed (awake but wiped out, comfortably stretched on her blanket) but every 20-30 mins she would insist on getting up. She couldn’t stand—I’d hold her body and she’d move her legs across the floor to lead where she wanted to go, then she’d plop down again and zone out. Does it sound like she was stressed? I’m anxious that her last day was miserable and prolonged; this went on all afternoon—the vet was hours late. I’m hoping she was like me on ativan when unable to fall asleep (eg, on a plane): sedate/feeling good with the occasional burst of resistance.

Anyway, as feared, the vet wasn’t nice. I had my baby settled on the floor in a quiet back room when he came stomping in, and before even saying hello (to either of us), he loudly demands that he can’t do it on the floor. Ok. I moved her to the kitchen table. This change of space and light of course made her to want to get up. I had to gently hold her down while arguing with him about using a sedative before the euthanasia shot (I had to insist).

As if it wasn’t going badly enough, the vet wouldn’t let me hold her or even keep my hand on her while he gave her the first shot. The tech held her down. Which means his touch (not mine) and the needle were the last things she consciously felt?

As she’d already been fairly unresponsive, the sedative took immediate effect (so he said). To test this, he sharply tapped her poor little nose at her eye. It was horrible! I can’t get the image out of my mind. She didn’t react but this must have been adding to the trauma for her.

She was completely still following the sedative so perhaps it did quickly work. However, she did not look settled. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She looked defeated and sad the whole time, not sedated.

Thank god she’d had the sedative, though, because he jammed her vein many times to get the needle in, finally managing to get just a little of the shot in. That first try didn’t work. He said because of poor blood pressure. So he flipped her over and started roughly poking at a new leg, finally getting most of the liquid into her. He stood up and announced, “she’s gone.” But her heart was still beating. I told him this and he roughly pushed my hand, which had been resting on her side, away to feel it himself. Then he went back at poking her poor leg and eventually managed to finish the shot. After another minute, he again shoved my hand away to feel her chest, then he did the same banging on her eye area (ugh), eventually getting a stethoscope to listen for her heart. Again, “she’s gone.”

I feel heartbroken about every element of this and like I made bad choices. Maybe a trip to the office to see our kind, gentle vet would have been better. She got to be home this way, sure, but it was so unpleasant. Was she aware of this? I’m hoping the ativan was working and then the sedative. Because this was not a nice few minutes for her, not at all.

Also, while I tried to be present and comfort her during this terrible time, I feel like I lost control of the situation so early… I don’t know if I was really there for her, either sufficiently comforting her (I was so distracted by the vet’s behavior) or demanding the respect and dignity she deserved. Actually, I know I didn’t do that last part. I should have made him stop and be kind. I want to change every single moment of what happened.

As if all that weren’t bad enough, I am haunted by the possibility that she wasn’t passed when he took her away. He was so rushed—I somewhat don’t believe her heart was really stopped when he listened to it. And I didn’t get a moment anywhere in there to say a proper, peaceful goodbye.

The whole thing was awful. I desperately hope it wasn’t as bad for her as I fear. It’s hard enough for her to be gone—this dread I feel about it all is just too much.