I wasn't going to answer this question originally, because we just had to
deal with it this week and it was very painful.  However, upon reading what
Mike Dutton had to say, I wanted to respond.  Thanks, Mike, for giving me a
bit of peace of mind and explaining in detail what we go through when making
such a horrible final decision for one of our furbabies.
 
Quality of life is indeed a really subjective thing.  Trixxi, a retired zoo
education animal who was over 7 when we got her in September, was diagnosed
a few months ago with insulinoma.  I then noticed she was losing hair, also,
and had a swollen vulva, which made me suspect adrenal disease as well.  We
decided not to have surgery (another hard decision, but she was already over
7 and I just don't think the trauma of surgery would've been in her best
interests).  Prenisone perked her up remarkably for a short time (about
three weeks or so), but then she went downhill.  She just quit eating.  Even
Nutrical didn't interest her.  We began having to force her medications down
her, and I began hand-feeding her duck soup.  At first, she willingly ate
about half of what she was supposed to have, but only if I was giving it to
her *personally*.  The rest I had to force down her, which we both HATED
:(:(.  She began losing weight *really* fast, until she was nothing but skin
and bones and a big swollen tummy.  You could literally feel her entire
skeleton when you picked her up.  Then she began eating less and less on her
own, and finally she refused to eat at all.
 
At that point, we just didn't feel she had much quality to her life, and we
knew she wasn't getting any better.  She was so weak she could barely walk,
and forcing food down her was very unpleasant for her.  It was a major
ordeal for her just to get from the living room to the bathroom, where she
had a favorite rug, so I began carrying her.  It was breaking my heart, but
we both knew it was time.
 
In my opinion, when an animal flat out refuses to eat, that animal has given
up. If the condition isn't terminal and you can coax them back with lots of
love and attention and yummy hand-feedings, then there is still hope.  But
in Trixxi's case, there was no hope.  She was wasting away and it was
terminal.  I was doing everything in my power to get her eating again, and
she wouldn't have any of it.  She knew she was ready to go even before we
were willing to accept it.  When it finally got to the point that she could
barely walk, we had to accept that it really was time to do the right thing.
 
-Tasha
[Posted in FML issue 1833]