On Pets and Passing and Compassion

It is with very heavy hearts that Tim and I have watched the health of BOTH of our beloved cats (ages 15 and 17) decline drastically over the past few months. We know that Harley's kidneys have failed and Grady has some sort of mystery illness for which we have found no diagnosis. No matter how many tests we ran or medicines we tried, Grady and Harley just got thinner and more frail with each passing day. Tim and I have talked to one another, we have talked to the cats' lifelong vet and we have talked to Rudy's vet (who my family has gone to for probably 25 years). 

Max was a Bichon and Rudy’s predecessor. Shortly after he and I moved back home to Nashville and our favorite vet, he got cancer. He was lmost sixteen years old then. When his suffering became too much, my vet and her staff handled every detail with the appropriate measure of deference and kindness. When I think back on Max’s passing, yes, I am sad and miss him terribly but thanks to our vet and her staff, I never regretted for one moment my decision to let him go and restore his peace. Throughout the entire experience with Max, I glimpsed the essence of compassion.

The amount of respect and admiration I have for Rudy’s vet is extensive. Her consideration of the whole animal, extensive knowledge of holistic approaches and apparently fervent continuing education are why I have always trusted her without hesitation. Although she has never treated the cats, we made an appointment to meet with her last week about them while also getting Rudy’s thyroid levels checked (they’re finally right!). 

This vet knows better than anyone about our Rudy’s extra-sensitive nature. It will not come as a surprise to anyone if Rudy has a Prozac-worthy meltdown over the loss of his BFFs and his herd. This awesome vet amazed Tim and me when she suggested we bring Rudy with us when the time comes. 

She has studied about and seen for herself that surviving pets do better when they are there to watch their dying "siblings" take their last breaths. She said the survivor immediately looks away when the dying pet is gone. When the surviving pet gets home, he will grieve just as he would had he not been there. However, by watching his “siblings” pass, the survivor will not look for or wait by the door for his pals. Overall, we agreed that when the time came, Rudy's vet should be the one we call. 

We understand that making "that call" is the kindest, gentlest, most loving and unselfish thing we can do for our pets. That makes it no less difficult or emotional though. Today, we decided that for our cats, the time has come.

Now, here is my rant: 

I am appalled at the lack of empathy & professionalism we got today when we made “that call.” We spoke to two different, new members of the staff and explained why we were calling. We did as we had agreed we would do. The plan was we would call before they left on the day we knew it was time and they would schedule us for the first appointment the next morning. That way, we would not have to sit in a waiting room full of people and pets holding two dying cats and one border collie who will probably be bouncing off the walls by then. This phone call was not a time for this awesome vet’s staff to be insensitive and downright rude. 

It is a disappointment that this experience is not what I had hoped or expected. A seasoned staffer called back at 5:30 and though less than ideal, now we at least have an appointment at 10:30 tomorrow.

Comments

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My heart goes out to you. You are in my thoughts & prayers, I will be thinking of you tomorrow during your most difficult time. (I have actually set my phone alarm - sometimes it takes more than one brain!) maybeblessed