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I didn't get very much sleep last night. Girl Jodie's cat, Judas, was in terrible shape and needed to be put out of his misery. He had the cat equivalent of AIDS: feline immunodeficiency virus, and was failing rapidly. After failed attempts at finding a veterinarian willing to do it pro bono or at least willing to wait until money could be raised, the SPCA was called. But there was no luck. They wouldn't be able to do anything about it until later on in the week.
We hoped that my father would be able to do it. He has a lot of experience in swiftly dispatching various animals. Unfortunately, he was out of town. The onus was on us.
After a surreal online search, it seemed like insulin overdose would do the trick efficiently. Insulin overdose puts its victims to sleep, and then they fall into a coma before dying. So a diabetic acquaintance came over to give the injection. Judas was given twenty units of fast-acting insulin: enough to kill a person. The stuff takes effect in ten to fifteen minutes. He was a little bit annoyed, but didn't seem to particularly mind. He was already stoned on painkillers, after all.
I held Judas on my lap and stroked his head. He gazed at the people surrounding him steadily, and he purred quietly. He was content. And his eyes began to glaze and one eye closed more than the other. His head faltered, as he grew sleepier and sleepier. Then both eyes closed, and his breathing became more shallow. All the while, we all tearfully petted him and soothed him. It seemed he was dying peacefully.
But it didn't work. About ten or fifteen minutes later, he completely snapped out of it.
A second injection was given to him, but with the same limited effect. Perhaps it was the wrong sort of insulin being used.
f00 volunteered to do the deed with a very big knife, and Judas curled up on his lap and purred. From the look on f00's face, I could tell he felt like a betrayer.
And so I walked with f00 and Judas to a secluded place deep within the park. By this point, it was about two o'clock in the morning. It was a very still and quiet night. The waxing moon was bright in the sky, hidden sporadically by thick, roaming clouds, and all we could hear were our quiet voices offering soothing words to Judas and to one another, our footsteps along the woodland trail, distant traffic, and Judas's occasional questioning mews.
We wished there was another way--that some miracle cure would suddenly appear in front of us, or that some Victor the Cleaner type would volunteer to do the dirty work for us--but wishes don't work so well. We set up off in the woods away from footpaths. It was very dark. And then f00 sent me away.
I went back to the footpath, filled with feelings of relief and disgust. I was relieved I didn't have to be there to see it, and disgusted with myself for my cowardice in being able to put an animal out of its misery. For all my experiences in growing up around animals, I'd hoped I'd be able to stop an animal's suffering. But time and time again, I've failed. I couldn't bring myself to snap the neck of a pigeon who'd just been hit by a car in front of me. I turned away from a mouse with crushed hindquarters.
If there's one thing I really dislike about myself, it's my own hypocracy. I expect people to put incurable suffering animals to death, but I'm too cowardly to do it, myself. And so I stood on the path, listening without wanting to hear, waiting for the sound that signified Judas was finally through his pain.
And I was angry, because it seemed to be taking far too long.
I knew f00 was having a terrible time, and was composing himself, and probably apologizing to the cat for what was going to happen. And I felt a terrible pity for both him, for what he had to do, and for Jodie, because she loves that cat.
I looked up at the sky again. I was trapped in some sort of phantasmagoria. The beautiful night sky and peaceful meadows in front of me were in incongruous juxtoposition with what was happening behind me in the dark wood. If f00 was the Queen's woodsman, and Judas was Snow White, what on earth was I?
And then I heard. It was done, suddenly and swiftly.
I called out to f00, asking him if he was ok. Asking if he needed help.
His voice was hoarse and deep when he told me to stay still.
Instead, I picked my way slowly back into the woods, giving him lots of time, and giving myself lots of time. Unseen branches scratched at my hair and coat, and I stumbled a bit over a shadow-hidden log. And finally, f00 asked me to come and help. By that point, I was only a few scant feet away, on the other side of a large bush.
We walked back home, carrying more than one kind of heavy load. We stopped, and I hugged f00. We stood still for a long time, before finishing our walk. I felt a great relief that it was all over, and at the same time, a different sort of sadness.
Goodbye, Judas. You were a good cat, and you are missed.
We hoped that my father would be able to do it. He has a lot of experience in swiftly dispatching various animals. Unfortunately, he was out of town. The onus was on us.
After a surreal online search, it seemed like insulin overdose would do the trick efficiently. Insulin overdose puts its victims to sleep, and then they fall into a coma before dying. So a diabetic acquaintance came over to give the injection. Judas was given twenty units of fast-acting insulin: enough to kill a person. The stuff takes effect in ten to fifteen minutes. He was a little bit annoyed, but didn't seem to particularly mind. He was already stoned on painkillers, after all.
I held Judas on my lap and stroked his head. He gazed at the people surrounding him steadily, and he purred quietly. He was content. And his eyes began to glaze and one eye closed more than the other. His head faltered, as he grew sleepier and sleepier. Then both eyes closed, and his breathing became more shallow. All the while, we all tearfully petted him and soothed him. It seemed he was dying peacefully.
But it didn't work. About ten or fifteen minutes later, he completely snapped out of it.
A second injection was given to him, but with the same limited effect. Perhaps it was the wrong sort of insulin being used.
f00 volunteered to do the deed with a very big knife, and Judas curled up on his lap and purred. From the look on f00's face, I could tell he felt like a betrayer.
And so I walked with f00 and Judas to a secluded place deep within the park. By this point, it was about two o'clock in the morning. It was a very still and quiet night. The waxing moon was bright in the sky, hidden sporadically by thick, roaming clouds, and all we could hear were our quiet voices offering soothing words to Judas and to one another, our footsteps along the woodland trail, distant traffic, and Judas's occasional questioning mews.
We wished there was another way--that some miracle cure would suddenly appear in front of us, or that some Victor the Cleaner type would volunteer to do the dirty work for us--but wishes don't work so well. We set up off in the woods away from footpaths. It was very dark. And then f00 sent me away.
I went back to the footpath, filled with feelings of relief and disgust. I was relieved I didn't have to be there to see it, and disgusted with myself for my cowardice in being able to put an animal out of its misery. For all my experiences in growing up around animals, I'd hoped I'd be able to stop an animal's suffering. But time and time again, I've failed. I couldn't bring myself to snap the neck of a pigeon who'd just been hit by a car in front of me. I turned away from a mouse with crushed hindquarters.
If there's one thing I really dislike about myself, it's my own hypocracy. I expect people to put incurable suffering animals to death, but I'm too cowardly to do it, myself. And so I stood on the path, listening without wanting to hear, waiting for the sound that signified Judas was finally through his pain.
And I was angry, because it seemed to be taking far too long.
I knew f00 was having a terrible time, and was composing himself, and probably apologizing to the cat for what was going to happen. And I felt a terrible pity for both him, for what he had to do, and for Jodie, because she loves that cat.
I looked up at the sky again. I was trapped in some sort of phantasmagoria. The beautiful night sky and peaceful meadows in front of me were in incongruous juxtoposition with what was happening behind me in the dark wood. If f00 was the Queen's woodsman, and Judas was Snow White, what on earth was I?
And then I heard. It was done, suddenly and swiftly.
I called out to f00, asking him if he was ok. Asking if he needed help.
His voice was hoarse and deep when he told me to stay still.
Instead, I picked my way slowly back into the woods, giving him lots of time, and giving myself lots of time. Unseen branches scratched at my hair and coat, and I stumbled a bit over a shadow-hidden log. And finally, f00 asked me to come and help. By that point, I was only a few scant feet away, on the other side of a large bush.
We walked back home, carrying more than one kind of heavy load. We stopped, and I hugged f00. We stood still for a long time, before finishing our walk. I felt a great relief that it was all over, and at the same time, a different sort of sadness.
Goodbye, Judas. You were a good cat, and you are missed.
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no subject
Date: 2003-06-16 06:06 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2003-06-16 07:45 pm (UTC)From:Poor f00, for having to deal with it all. He's very brave, doing something so difficult like that.
::lots of hugs for all::
no subject
Date: 2003-06-16 10:04 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2003-06-17 12:28 am (UTC)From:At least he didn't suffer and, like everyone said beforehand, at least he was loved at the end.