Like Simon, They All Deserve Thought
Last night we made a decision to euthanize one of the animals at the sanctuary. His name was Simon. I can’t bring myself to re-write everything at the sanctuary’s blog, so I’m just linking to it.
To call the decision to kill Simon difficult is an understatement. It took the combined efforts of four staff members to work through what would be in Simon’s best interest. The idea that death would be his best option is no easy thing to write. Death would have come for Simon, no matter our decision. The choice before us was whether to end his suffering while he was opened up on the surgery table and already anesthetized, or allow him to wake up, recover slightly and then enter a world of constant, egregious pain (and, to be certain, he would have died within a few days to months). We chose the former and all the baggage that comes with such a heavy resolution.
Reputable sanctuaries offer so much to the lucky few. Freedom. Choices. Friends. A life mostly full of joy and mostly free of immense suffering. And the ultimate, ethical quandary all sanctuaries face is when and if we should be taking the lives of these animals. While we don’t designate a particular day and time, like farmers do, most sanctuaries do make the decision for the animals. Sometimes we are lucky – a sanctuary denizen’s body settles it for them, and they pass on in all their natural glory. Mostly we are faced with individuals who are acutely suffering or aging in such a way as to cause constant pain and discomfort. The former is never acceptable, the latter is debatable. Pain and discomfort go with growing old, with life in general.
I don’t have an answer. I am human. I and my fellow sanctuary staff members have made horrible mistakes. We have caused unnecessary suffering. We have waited too long. We have not waited long enough. We don’t have perfect answers, and we never will. I can only say that coming to the “euthanasia” conclusion is filled with ache, thought, pain, and indecision.
It is something ten billion animals don’t get. It is what makes me full of anguish. For as I rested my cheek against Simon’s, as he leaned into me for comfort and security, I recognized that while his suffering was – at bare minimum – being alleviated by kindness and medicine and he was surrounded by other sheep and people he knew and liked, billions of other animals live and leave this world in utter terror, complete fear…and few human animals give them any thought.
Stephanie Ernst
Marji
Kelly G.
Deb
Mary Martin
It’s never an easy choice. My heart is with all of you during this time.
Sweet Simon.
The only word I wish you would change, Marji, is “kill” at the start of your second paragraph. You did not “kill” him. Your motive was to relieve his distress. “Putting to sleep” or “putting to rest” is accurate, “kill” is NOT. There should be no guilt or penalty accompanying/following a decision that’s made out of mercy and kindness.
I couldn’t get my comment on your blog to “take,” so I’ve pasted it below ( it refers to the second photo of Simon, beneath your blog).
I will retain the mental image of Simon, soft and white, pure and innocent, resting comfortably in the shade of the white blossoms. To me, this is how peace looks — the peace that the world longs for, the peace that Simon continues to feel, and impart to all, over the Rainbow Bridge.
The work you do, day in and day out, has to bring the full range of emotions — the joy you get to experience while getting to know them and witnessing their joys and triumphs and the heartbreak and sorrow you must face when watching their suffering and upon having to make such torturous decisions. I am sorry for Simon. I am sorry for you. But I am glad you and the sanctuary were there with him, both at the end and until it, during better times. I am glad you are there for all of the animals you can be.
I feel for your loss and what you’re going through – the decision-making angst within your heart. Simon had 7 beautiful years that he would not have had without you – he’ll be thankful for every moment of that and for helping him leave when he could no longer go on. Simon’s final leaving happened 7 years later than he thought.
Even those of us who don’t work in sanctuaries face these same decisions, doubts, recriminations and guilt. Each of us face this when making the decision to choose life or death for our beloved companion animals. I think that what sets us apart from many others is that we battle with this decision, we take it seriously because we value the very life that is in our hands. It shouldn’t be an easy decision, but when we choose to be angels of mercy, we have to accept the full responsibility of that decision. Bottom line, what is best for the life we hold in our hands, not what is best for us. And, if we don’t experience pain and loss can we truly appreciate joy and companionship?
A dedicated cat rescuer in NY has a relevant post, if you’re interested in reading: http://wildrun.blogspot.com/
My heart hurts for you, for Susan and for Simon and Skinny Bear (who got that name from a silly comment I’d made when Susan first spotted him in the field – who knew it would end up being his name). Grief sucks. It’s good to know that you have loyal followers who share your grief and wish you well.
Marji, re all the lovely, loving comments above:
I hope it is a comfort to you that so many kind hearts around the world understand your deep love for Simon and share your deep sadness at his passing. It’s wonderful that through the Internet we are able to express our feelings for our animal kin. A few short decades ago, not only would it have been impossible to communicate this way, but also unthinkable to publicly (or even privately?) honor our nonhuman and human friends with an equally full range of emotions. For sure, Simon feels all the love.
Thanks, everyone, for your kind thoughts. It is always uplifting to know others understand.
Olivia, I chose “kill” because while it was a decision based on what *we* felt were Simon’s best interests, we still made the decision to take his life. There was a chance he could have had a few months of happy, healthy life. There was a higher chance he would re-block within a few days. We just didn’t know for certain. Even with the kindest of intentions, we still took his life, we still killed him. I don’t feel it diminishes the decision or Simon, it adds a “human-ness” and an understanding that, sadly, even their choice to die naturally is taken from them…even if it is a choice that eliminates almost certain suffering and pain.
That said, I did not include it to harm anyone or make anyone feel uncomfortable. I’m just trying to work through my feelings.
I understand now, Marji. I was defending your pure motives, not feeling harmed or uncomfortable myself.
You’re right, making the choice FOR someone else is hard. And it isn’t a choice we are forced to make with wild animals, is it — unless they are under our immediate care in a sanctuary.
May you find the peace you deserve to feel, Marji. You are innocent of any wrongdoing, I believe. You chose what you felt, to your best understanding, Simon would want you to choose on his behalf, for him.
That said, what you have explained here does make me question why we euthanize animals in our care but not human children who are terminally suffering.
All I know is, you all acted out of deep compassion and did what you felt was in Simon’s best interests, and he felt that and knew that, so please don’t blame yourself, because Simon surely doesn’t. And even if you make a different decision next time, to wait longer or to let the creature make the choice himself, Simon would never begrudge you for doing your highest concept of right with him. All good to you.