Last night I had to give permission to have my soul mate dog killed. Even after 24 hours, I still can’t stop crying. She had severely injured her spine, and an MRI confirmed her increasing paralysis was likely unfixable. Even with surgery, she would have probably been still partially paralyzed and very likely in constant, significant pain felt above that point. The dog could still live, but the doctor recommended euthanasia.
Now, understand, this wasn’t just some beloved family pet, she was my life partner. I’m a 60-year-old, live-alone bachelor who was more attached to this dog than I am to my arms or legs.
She was just a little older than me (63 in dog years), and still had some good years left in her. It simply wasn’t time for her to die. Yet, when the doctor told me it was best to have my soul mate killed rather than live a life of pain and torture, it was professionally done within the context that it would be the right and good thing to do for Tracker (my dog’s name).
Why don’t we do the same for people? Why do we believe that milking every minute of life out of existence is the best way to go for us?