Troy Lynn... I'm glad you put into words the way I was feeling, about when
to euthanize your beloved ferrets.  I was in the exact same position when
it came to Squeegie, and the very thought of whether I was doing the right
thing or not by keeping him alive, if only for a few short months, was fair
to him.  And even on the fateful day when I had made that same decision as
you did, Squeegie also acted very bright once we were in the vet's office,
and I too had second thoughts and big doubts about doing the "right thing".
 
When Squeegie first came to me, I felt I had justification for keeping
Squeegie alive... he was bright and lively... no signs of pain or of
hurt... no moaning or whimpering when I picked him up or touched him.  He
dooked and danced like the best of them... he really was not ready to go
when the vet found him to be full of cancer and internal bleeding.  But I
know that my reasons were selfish as well.  I wanted to be the one to give
him his last few months of life in home of love and kindness, and that I
wanted to make up for all the bad that he had previously encountered...
unconditionally.  I allowed him to run where he pleased, and chase and
bully the cats (and other ferrets) he wanted to beat up on.  I even allowed
him to poop where he pleased, except he was such a good little ferret, that
he used his litter box 100% of the time, right up to the end of his life.
 
But through it all, I knew his time was limited and I watched him everyday,
looking for signs that keeping him alive was no longer in his best
interest.  How could he have decent quality of life, if he was past the
point of being able to fulfill that part of him that was a ferret?  It is
THE hardest decision to make, and without a doubt the least selfish thing
any of us can give our little ones.
 
In all the years of having ferrets, I had found some had died in their
sleep.  Finding cold bodies is painful, especially when you don't expect
it.  And I have experienced the last breath of one of my ferrets at the age
of nine and a half.  When Max died in my arms, I felt it was a blessing...
because it was nature making the decision for me and nature that had taken
the decision out of my hands.  And each time one of my ferrets is sick and
I know that there is no hope, and that their time will come, a small part
of me still wants it to be nature that takes their lives and not me.  Since
Max's death, I no longer believe that I should wait for death to come a
knockin' on their doors.  It is unfair to make them live their last days in
a state of nothingness.  Max's jaw locked - I could no longer feed him, and
he barely swallowed.  His breathing was shallow, and the life had left his
eyes way before his lungs exhaled their last breath.  It was selfish of me
not to do the right thing sooner.  I just did not want to be his
executioner.  I was wrong, and will never let this happen again.
 
Even though I know that the act of euthanasia is the kindest thing I can
do, it is also one of the hardest things I have had to deal with: getting
past the idea that I am their killer... their murderer... that I am playing
God with their lives.  It is the constant pull between the kind act of
putting them out of their pain before they suffer and making that fateful
decision, and by letting nature takes its course.  I know that if it were
me dying, that I would choose not to be hooked up to a machine to prolong
my life.  If nature is telling me that it is time to go, then time for me
to go it is.  It is unfortunate that we cannot offer the same humane
attitudes towards each other, with out medical intervention.  Personally, I
would not want a long drawn out death, especially one of pain and suffering
even if it meant being drugged up enough not to feel it.  The only medical
intervention I would want is the ability to ask for my humane shot and get
it without criminal repercussions.  I realize that I have put human
feelings upon my furry little ones, but I feel that I would not want them
to suffer, as I would not want to suffer.
 
I recall a story by David Suzuki who related the death of his mother.  She
suffered a major heart attack, and upon arrival at the hospital, she had
stopped breathing and was technically dead.  She was revived but shortly
thereafter, stopped breathing again.  Many times she was revived.  The
family watched as their mother "died" again and again.  The pain of it
was too much.  They only wanted that she die in dignity - instead they were
at the mercy of medical science.  Finally, the family was able to say that
enough was enough.
 
As a society, we tend to fear death, and fear the unknown.  It is my hope
that we can better understand that life is not unlimited, and to be able
to deal with the end when it comes with dignity and with compassion.... for
all of us.
 
Betty and Her Blur O'Fur Missing Squeegie
[Posted in FML issue 2974]