Beloved pets are not humans. I realize that. But humans and dogs, cats, and other pets hurt and suffer with pain like humans. We don’t have living wills for pets, but caring pet owners face difficult decisions when told the pet needs an operation. And the operation may not be successful; there are no guarantees the pet will recover and health will return.
How long should a pet owner let the beloved pet endure pain? Each of us hopes that in time they will get well. How old does a pet have to be before the operation seems too difficult when the pet has to be put under anesthesia? What chances are there for the pet’s recovery? What expense is too much? Every decision seems to have a question mark attached.
When is it time to say good bye to our beloved animals?
My family faces these questions today. Buddy, our frisky Beagle, our good friend, is in pain. Usually, he’s such a happy, energetic, loving dog. Buddy loves to chase squirrels, butterflies, birds, even chipmunks...they tease him, then begins the chase where they easily get away from Buddy. The chase is a delight, and the possibility of catching the teaser totally tantalizes our Beagle. And he never gives up! Quitting is not in Buddy’s vocabulary.
Buddy is a determined, action dog, ready to move at the slightest noise. His Beagle howl is well known throughout our neighborhood, though as he’s aged, he doesn’t vocalize as much. At eight years old, our small dog Buddy is now in middle-age, approximately 54 human years. He’s much more demure; he’s content to quietly keep guard over the lawn from his perch on a stuffed lawn chair on the deck.
Buddy is not a watch dog. If someone or something invades his personal territory, he’s quick to acknowledge another’s presence with a little woof; that’s it. If the invader is bearing any morsel of food, his tag begins wagging exuberantly; he jumps off his perch and rushes to greet the invader. He’s a marshmallow dog when it comes to protection. Treats, lunch, and dinner are some of his favorite vocabulary words.
But his reckless energy got the better of Buddy last week Tiny chippies were hiding in the hosta plants bordering our deck. Scurrying in and out through the thick green leaves, the noisy chippies were enjoying their play time. They teased Beagle, begging him to begin the chase. Buddy rose to his full stature, stood on all fours, howled his signature Beagle howl and dashed for the hosta-hiding chippies. Leaping and soaring 3 foot over the thick, green plants, he landed on the lawn inclining to the lake. Checking both ways, he inspected the territory and began the hunt with noisy sniffs for the scent in the lawn. Buddy on a mission to hunt the invading varmints.
When Buddy landed, he must have jarred his body. His neck became painfully stiff; it hurt to raise his head. Dr. Roshar, our neighborhood veterinarian, tells us Buddy’s neck and back are similar to human’s troublesome backs. Sometimes the discs in our back are crushed and the pain becomes unbearable. Buddy couldn’t lift his head; he began having trouble walking up and down stairs. He wasn’t interested in eating, not even treats when I hand fed him. His right front paw drooped, and his front leg became lame. He cried when I picked him up to go to the vet. Nerve pain radiated from his neck into his front leg. He had trouble lying down to rest. He began to favor his left side to lie on. Buddy was miserable. So were Mom and Dad!
And Buddy started to cry. Remember how agonizing it was to hear your baby cry? Well, Buddy’s cries have my husband and me running to him, gently massaging his neck and back, offering water and treats, murmuring comforting words.
We just returned from our second visit to the vet in a week. Dr Roshar cautioned us that perhaps the cortisone shots and prednisone pills would not be effective. Further options are an animal chiropractor or back surgery. There are no guarantees that Buddy will return to his former frisky loving personality. He’s aging...
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