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While I own a pet, I am more than a pet owner. I am the steward of another living being's life.
From the day we accept the responsibility of their care, we also accept that we may be called to make their final decision. We play with them, care for them, comfort them when they are ill, feed them and nourish them in body and in mind.
They look to us for safety and well being. There are many who would say, "I want them to live as long as possible - I want them to die naturally."
That, in my eyes, is a fool's wish and a coward's excuse.
There is nothing natural about a pet's existence. Domestic cats revert to feral pretty rapidly, but their quality of life in that state is not what society currently find acceptable for a pet. There are no wild herds of majestic Holsteins roaming the plains. No wild packs of King Charles Spaniels carrying out the circle of life in the wilderness.
We have selectively bred domestic animals for our use - for our enjoyment and pleasure. As a result, we have an innate and irrefutable responsibility to them.
To hope that they simply die peacefully in their sleep of old age is an idyllic endgame we hope for all of our beloved charges. This is very often not reality.
The reality is much more grim - a sickness that can't be cured, a pain that can not be alleviated.
As the steward of this small life, we have the power and reasoning ability to choose to prolong their life, or end it with simple, quiet dignity.
This is a gift. The one last greatest kindness we can afford them. A kindness we can't even share with our own kind.
After contemplation of their quality vs quantity of life, it is us, the owners, who have to make that choice. The pets can tell you in so many unspoken ways when it is their time, but it is the owner who must bear the terrible, beautiful responsibility of carrying it out.
There will always, always be questions after wards. Did I do the right thing? Was it the right time? Was there anything else I could have done?
But there is comfort in a life well lived, and a life well tended. If you have done what you can within your means to make that creature's life comfortable, with little fear, and a treat and pat on the head once in a while - that is the accumulation of good.
"Away to me, lad," the shepherds call.
And so it goes - Away to me. Comforted by the thought that we've always tried to do right by our mute beasts.
From the day we accept the responsibility of their care, we also accept that we may be called to make their final decision. We play with them, care for them, comfort them when they are ill, feed them and nourish them in body and in mind.
They look to us for safety and well being. There are many who would say, "I want them to live as long as possible - I want them to die naturally."
That, in my eyes, is a fool's wish and a coward's excuse.
There is nothing natural about a pet's existence. Domestic cats revert to feral pretty rapidly, but their quality of life in that state is not what society currently find acceptable for a pet. There are no wild herds of majestic Holsteins roaming the plains. No wild packs of King Charles Spaniels carrying out the circle of life in the wilderness.
We have selectively bred domestic animals for our use - for our enjoyment and pleasure. As a result, we have an innate and irrefutable responsibility to them.
To hope that they simply die peacefully in their sleep of old age is an idyllic endgame we hope for all of our beloved charges. This is very often not reality.
The reality is much more grim - a sickness that can't be cured, a pain that can not be alleviated.
As the steward of this small life, we have the power and reasoning ability to choose to prolong their life, or end it with simple, quiet dignity.
This is a gift. The one last greatest kindness we can afford them. A kindness we can't even share with our own kind.
After contemplation of their quality vs quantity of life, it is us, the owners, who have to make that choice. The pets can tell you in so many unspoken ways when it is their time, but it is the owner who must bear the terrible, beautiful responsibility of carrying it out.
There will always, always be questions after wards. Did I do the right thing? Was it the right time? Was there anything else I could have done?
But there is comfort in a life well lived, and a life well tended. If you have done what you can within your means to make that creature's life comfortable, with little fear, and a treat and pat on the head once in a while - that is the accumulation of good.
"Away to me, lad," the shepherds call.
And so it goes - Away to me. Comforted by the thought that we've always tried to do right by our mute beasts.
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-02 11:30 pm (UTC)From:Hugs to you.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-03 02:11 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 07:22 pm (UTC)From:On the outside, she seems fine. The labwork however is a little wonky and that's disconcerting.
9 years isn't enough time with the girl...
no subject
Date: 2011-02-08 07:30 pm (UTC)From:The end is hard and always will be, but a kind, painless end...
You and yours will be in my thoughts.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-11 06:35 pm (UTC)From:Whew.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-11 06:41 pm (UTC)From:*happy pet thoughts*