The origin of the word euthanasia comes from the Greeks. In the early 17th century (in the sense ‘easy death’): from Greek, from eu ‘well’ + thanatos ‘death’. Easy death. There seems to be nothing “easy” about death. Easy only in the sense that the one being euthanized is not in control, so most likely not fighting the on-coming end of their life. Or is it just easy in the way we would say to a horse who is going too fast-“Easy, boy. Slow down.”
Three stories, actually, but one at a time. Three cats, all having typical cat endings to their lives.
1) Papi (Papillon - for her head marking). A big-boned girl who left life doing something she liked doing - is that the same as on her own terms? - maybe. We lived in East Van, which means "My cat is NOT an indoor cat", and "My dog shits free." are acceptable philosophies to some pet folks, despite the number of birds cats kill, and the negative effects of dog poop in the lives of plants and community members.
So Papi (and her ally, Alley - more on him in story 2) were usually let out at night to roam the neighbourhood and they nearly always were at the back door in the morning anxious to come in and eat (unless it was sunny, then they sometimes dallied). So when Papi did not come in one morning, not a big deal. But the day moved on, then the night and then the next morning and still no Papi.
Lost Cat notices went up, searches, door-knocking, calls to the pound, all to no avail. After a few weeks a neighbourhood person contacted us. They lived about a block and a half away. "I just saw your notice. There was a cat that kind of looked like yours that I found dead in our front yard a couple weeks ago. It looked like it had been hit by a car and crawled under our porch and sort of half-buried itself. I called the pound and they took it." I called the pound and learned it had been incinerated.
So did Papi go out on her own terms there? I don't know.
During this time our 16-yeard old daughter was in the last weeks of a 6-month trip though areas of south central Africa - Zimbabwe, Rwanda, Mozambique - and about to return home. Her mother had taken her to meet some of her relatives in Zim, stayed with her for two months, then left her with relatives for the remaining time, though our daughter also spent considerable time traveling on her own.
Anyone might ask, what is the connection?
The night before our daughter was scheduled to return from her journey I had a dream. In it, our cat Papi appeared to me as a kitten - cute, but one that could speak, "I was the price for your daughter returning safely."
They say you will know when it's time. I don't know what is worse waiting and wondering if today is the day, or the day itself. When the day came it was the worst day ever, no mistaking it. Then I wondered if I had waited to long out of cowardice. The final act is... well it's like fight club, no one talks about it. It's your cross to bear. The price of loving and being loved so unconditionally.
Three stories, actually, but one at a time. Three cats, all having typical cat endings to their lives.
1) Papi (Papillon - for her head marking). A big-boned girl who left life doing something she liked doing - is that the same as on her own terms? - maybe. We lived in East Van, which means "My cat is NOT an indoor cat", and "My dog shits free." are acceptable philosophies to some pet folks, despite the number of birds cats kill, and the negative effects of dog poop in the lives of plants and community members.
So Papi (and her ally, Alley - more on him in story 2) were usually let out at night to roam the neighbourhood and they nearly always were at the back door in the morning anxious to come in and eat (unless it was sunny, then they sometimes dallied). So when Papi did not come in one morning, not a big deal. But the day moved on, then the night and then the next morning and still no Papi.
Lost Cat notices went up, searches, door-knocking, calls to the pound, all to no avail. After a few weeks a neighbourhood person contacted us. They lived about a block and a half away. "I just saw your notice. There was a cat that kind of looked like yours that I found dead in our front yard a couple weeks ago. It looked like it had been hit by a car and crawled under our porch and sort of half-buried itself. I called the pound and they took it." I called the pound and learned it had been incinerated.
So did Papi go out on her own terms there? I don't know.
During this time our 16-yeard old daughter was in the last weeks of a 6-month trip though areas of south central Africa - Zimbabwe, Rwanda, Mozambique - and about to return home. Her mother had taken her to meet some of her relatives in Zim, stayed with her for two months, then left her with relatives for the remaining time, though our daughter also spent considerable time traveling on her own.
Anyone might ask, what is the connection?
The night before our daughter was scheduled to return from her journey I had a dream. In it, our cat Papi appeared to me as a kitten - cute, but one that could speak, "I was the price for your daughter returning safely."
They say you will know when it's time. I don't know what is worse waiting and wondering if today is the day, or the day itself. When the day came it was the worst day ever, no mistaking it. Then I wondered if I had waited to long out of cowardice. The final act is... well it's like fight club, no one talks about it. It's your cross to bear. The price of loving and being loved so unconditionally.
This made me weep. Cancer took my doggie, though it was euthanasia on the bed in the end. RIP Polly Jean.
Here is a story I relate to yours