I’m sorry about your cat. I would make the decision bases on if the cat is suffering.
We had both taken the day off work the day we were going to take our 16-year-old corgi to the vet. We had an appointment for late in the afternoon so we could spend that last day with him, holding him and telling him what a good boy he was. But after a few hours we realized we were doing that only for us and he was in too much misery. We called and moved up the appointment. It was the last decent thing we could do for him, to help him. We both had our arms around him and looked him straight in the eyes as we said goodbye. I am so glad we didn’t make him wait. It would have been cruel.
He is in a beautiful urn with his picture beside it, and his collar is on my dresser.
I wouldn’t feel bad if the animal was sick. After my mum died I was 16 and I had a dog and cat. The cat was 10 and the dog was 15 almost 16. I had no one to take care of them and I couldn’t keep them as I had no where to stay. So I had to put them to sleep. That was hard as they were both healthy animals and the I had the dog as long as I could remember and I could barely remember ever living without the cat.
But shelters won’t take animals that old and the pound said, “you can leave them here and in five days we’ll end up killing them.” So I figured if they had to die, I owed it to them to be with them when they were put to sleep rather than take the coward’s way out. So I stayed with them while the vet put them to sleep
I’m going through the same thing Ralfcoder, in this thread.
'Stache has hyperthyroidism and is in the animal hospital right now being treated. If I may ask, how long did you have your cat on meds, exactly? I’m hoping that if they work, 'Stache may have a few years left.
Trouble went 3-4 years on the thyroid meds, I think. He did come back fairly well, and had at least a couple of good years before the final decline. So try the meds and see how well it goes.
The prescription we were given was a low dose of a human thyroid medication. It was actually kinda fun to go to the pharmacy at the grocery store and pick them up. The pharmacist always did a double-take when we asked for a refill for “Trouble Coder”, until I said it was a veterinary prescription. Apparently, thyroid problems are fairly common in older cats, and the pharmacies see this sort of thing regularly.
A couple of suggestions: ask the pharmacist about your options for dosages, size of the refill (30 vs. 90 day refill, eg) and whether you can split the pills. Unless you have medical insurance for your pet, you can’t claim this bill on your own health insurance or prescription drug coverage, obviously. So see what you can do to minimize the costs. Ours wasn’t a lot, but if you’re doing this on an ongoing basis for a few years, it will still add up. And if the daily dosage is say 5 mg 2 times a day, and you can get a 10 mg pill cheaper, get a pill splitter.
The split pills are often easier to get down the cats throat, too. It was a chore at first, but we eventually just switched him over to canned food, and found we could poke one in that. He would wolf it down so fast he didn’t even notice it there. But watch at the beginning, to see that he doesn’t spit it out.
Best of luck, Jolly Roger!
The last pet I had put down was my doberman Grace. She had congestive heart failure. I maintained her for 6 months, with her getting thinner and thinner and refusing to eat. But even though she was refusing food, she would still go out with the other dogs and hunt in the fields, and come out when I fed the horses. As long as she still wanted to participate, I gladly cooked homemade food. One Satuurday she went out with the dogs and had a good day. By Sunday she refused to get up, refused water and even prime rib. I gave her another day, then decided she’d chosen that this was her time. I took her to the vet and stayed with her until the end.
StG
When I was younger and stupider about these things, I sometimes allowed other family members to take my animals to their final vet appointment because I felt unable to face the moment.
Those decisions are among my most profound regrets.
My 17 year old cat Smokey had diabetes and kidney failure. He got really picky with his food (my vet said, based on humans with the same conditions, they get a terrible taste in their mouth which is why they always want to try something “new” - they think the old food was “bad”) but he was also very hungry.
Anyway I knew he was going down hill and his life was measured in months. I was unemployed at the time so feeding him 6 times a day (and being woken every 3 hours at night with desperate cries for food) was something I could handle. That went on for 5 months or so.
One day he would not eat ANYTHING. He cried and cried, he was so hungry. I tried 5 different cat foods and 3 different meat baby foods (his favorite) but he wouldn’t eat anything, just look at it and look at me and cry. When I finally got him to eat a couple of licks of butter, I cried.
I could not put him through another day like that. Smokey always looked to me to “make it better” (he even used to hide behind me if the other cats were mean to him) and since I couldn’t I owed it to him to not let it get worse. He felt better over the weekend, and had some good days. But for me it wasn’t a question of how many more good days but how many more bad days. The number of additional bad days I was willing to let him endure, was zero. Better a day too early, than a day too late.
That was a thursday. We called to schedule him for at home euthanasia on friday. The vet came monday. It was peaceful and he didn’t have to go in the carrier. He sat in my lap and at my shoulder on the couch until the vet came.
He was the sweetest kitty and I miss him a lot. He had been my friend for many years. 
It is a comfort to me that I feel I did right by him.
As a background, my husband used to work at the local abbattoir (slaughterhouse) Instead of turning him hard, it has meant he can’t bring himself to have his own pets put down. I’m still too ashamed to say how our dog & first cat suffered - even on an anonymous messageboard.
Our beloved cat George was 16 & sitting on my husband’s knee when I noticed his head rocking like Stevie Wonder’s. We realised then he was blind. We took him to the vet where we discovered he had a raft of health problems. The only good news was that he wasn’t completely blind - he still had some night vison… Initially after being put on medication he picked up, but deteriorated. He became complete blind & incontinent - & my husband still wouldn’t have him put down. We by now had a young kitten (due to my daughter taking Juno on when she had no job, money or a place to live :mad: ) Juno bonded strongly with my husband but he still couldn’t let George go. (Juno was pretty good with George but she still took the occassional swipe) Finally I couldn’t bear it anymore & made the appointment.
I hoped to spend the last morning cuddling George, but he was in too much pain to want to be held. So we actualy went to the vet’s early. The vet handled things very sensitively & I had some time alone with George where I told him how much I loved him & that there would never be another cat like him. & then the vet injected him & he was gone.
My husband phoned my daughter while he was at work & she told him I was having George put down (she agrees this wasn’t her finest moment) He came storming home, but calmed down when he saw I was still crying.
At first it was a relief that George was gone. But now I miss the old George, the healthy young George every day. Juno is pretty, bright & an excellent mouser but not an affectionate cat - the little affection she does feel goes to my husband. But is she needs putting down I’m not going to even consult my husband. Hes never going to be able to make that decision.
I seriously don’t know why I even bother with these threads, I always start bawling. I’d decided to put Charlie down a few days before I did the deed. More details here. It was hard. Really hard. I’d only had him a few months, and he was only 3 years old. I still think about him sometimes.
Put my little Maddy dog down Tuesday. I made the decision Monday that it was time. She was 16 and had been going downhill for a while. I knew the time was coming, but I kept thinking it would be “later.”
My girl had a great weekend and then crashed Monday morning. It’s hard to describe, but she just wasn’t the same animal. Normally, she was a very happy dog. Monday she was miserable. I could have tried additional aggressive measures, but that wasn’t right for this dog who hated vets and vet procedures. We’d tried what she could deal with, and I didn’t want such a previously happy, life-loving dog to linger on while miserable. So I called the vet who came out the next day.
The euthanasia went very smoothly and peacefully. I have a mobile vet who comes to my house (great for a dog who hated going to the vet). We sat down in my backyard under my girl’s favorite tree and cuddled while she got the sedation shot. The day was lovely, sunny and breezy with temps in the mid 50s (my dog’s favorite type of day). She curled up in my arms and I petted her and talked to her while she went under. The vet then gave her the pink shot, and her heart beat stopped a short time later.
I was nowhere close to ready. The time between making the decision and the vet coming out seemed so short. Plus, she’d had some good days so recently. Now, however, I know I did the right thing. She was ready even if I wasn’t.
I told my story about putting down my 18-year-old cat in post #18 (huh), but I keep reading stories about people and their dogs and then looking over at my sleeping, 1.5-year-old puppy and trying to imagine having to put her down someday…
The decision to euthanize a loving pet is never, ever an easy decision. I’ve had to have 3 cats euthanized over the years and in every case, they told me when they were ready to go. My last kitty, Miss Kitty, Queen of Everything, was 18 years old when I had to have her put to sleep. She was my delight and even though she’s been gone now for about a year and a half, I still miss her daily.
Miss Kitty had lived in 4 different states and we jokingly (or not) said that she had more air miles than most people we know. She was extremely attached to me and suffered terribly from separation anxiety when I left a room without telling her. We had spent her last summer on a remote island in Alaska where she was content with finding a patch of sunshine and having the entire resort staff and guests tell her what a wonderful girl she was!
We flew home at the end of September and even though it was apparent that she was losing weight and was just generally not feeling well, I convinced myself that she would get better at home. Of course, that didn’t happen and after many trips to the vet, we determined that her kidneys were shutting down. I made several appointments to have her euthanized and cancelled the first 3 because Miss Kitty seemed to be doing better and wasn’t in any obvious paid. About 4 hours after the last cancellation, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor with Miss Kitty in my lap, surrounded by 14 opened cat food cans that I had opened with the hope that it would entice her to eat a little something. I realized then that I was cancelling the appointments for me, not for her.
I stayed with Missy when she was given her injections and sat, sobbing hysterically for at least an hour after she was gone. As painful as it was, I know that I made the decision that was right for her, at the right time. I am eternally grateful to have had her in my life for 18 years and even more grateful to have been there when she left my life.
Ooof. I get this.
Nine years ago, the woman who was in my job accepted a 13 year old ‘mutt’ pony into our equine program. She’d been seized by the Humane Society; one eye was permanently damaged from an untreated infection, she had a history of founder, was significantly underweight, and her feet hadn’t been trimmed in so long that they looked like elf boots.
About 2 years later, the woman moved on to a different job; she said later that her biggest fear was that the next person to take the job would euthanize the pony immediately due to her health issues. He didn’t, but he did pull her from the ‘rideable’ rotation.
Five and a half years ago, I came to the position. A couple months after I started, the pony foundered. The vet told me to remember that life was a matter of quality, not quantity. I knew that already, but I developed a soft spot for the fat little hobbit (she looked like Bert the Pony, but I was loathe to nickname her Bert, and she was a bit on the pudgy side, so it made sense).
For about 2 years we dealt with her ongoing foot issues (she had to wear her shoes backwards because her toes were so sensitive), but she eventually got to the point where we could maintain her just through trimming. We had a terrible scare when she came to the barn with a gash in her head that was about 6 inches long and down to the bone, but she eventually recovered. A year ago this past November, we removed a lump from her side that had to be cut off the muscle, but it was benign. About 9 months ago, I noticed she was having issues with her remaining eyesight. I swore that when she lost whatever was left, that would be the end of it.
She’d probably been totally blind since October or so, but I still dragged my feet because she was getting around okay. At the beginning of February, I noticed she was spending more and more time alone, separate from the herd. I went on vacation, and when I got back I watched as two of our younger horses chased her off from the rest of the horses, biting at her. I understood why they were doing it- we have a problem with stray dogs and coyotes, and she was a liability to the others- but I couldn’t bear to let her continue to experience it. I made the call that day, but scheduled it for 2 weeks after so my boss wouldn’t be there.
On Thursday the 4th, I told the kids at work. Most of them were okay. Some of them asked to help. :mad:
On Tuesday the 9th I put her in her stall early and gave her a huge bucket of feed (since before I got the job, all she’s ever eaten has been hay/grass- no supplemental pelleted feed, so this was a huge treat). I groomed her for over an hour, waiting for 1pm. The vet called at a little past 12:30 and said he’d just finished a surgery and could come out a little early… and I agreed. When he got there about 10 minutes later, I told him I needed his drive to take much longer.
We walked her up over the hill- I’d picked out a spot earlier, but we only got about 3/4 of the way there before she started calling out for the other horses, who were back in the barn. I couldn’t bear it, so we found an equally suitable spot. I fed her apple wafers; the vet petted her neck and told her not to worry, it would be just like we were drawing blood for her Coggins test. He gave her the injection, had just enough time to remind me to keep my hands away from her halter… she took one final wafer, tilted her head to the side- I swear, if I didn’t know she was blind I would’ve sworn she looked right at me as if to say ‘hmmm… odd…’, and then she crumpled to the ground. Not a gasp, not a twitch. Just here, then gone. She had a corneal reflex for a while, but the moment she reached the ground was the last time her heart beat or she took a breath. The vet stayed until she didn’t display the reflex any more, then he gave me a long hug and said he’d see himself out.
I sat with her, leaning against her stomach, for the next 2 and a half hours waiting for the (very nice) gentleman who’d volunteered to come out and dig her grave (he was running late due to an unexpected work situation). It took him less than half an hour to bury her, and I stayed the entire time. Then I picked up her halter and lead rope, and headed back to the barn to let the other horses out.
One of my former coworkers had flowers sent to me… a pretty little arrangement with a card that simply said ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
Horses are tough when it comes to euthanizing… I’ve seen them go very badly, and I’ve seen them go peacefully. The fat little hobbit was by far the easiest I’ve ever seen, and I will always be grateful to her for giving me that last little gift.
Stuff like this always makes me think of our beloved beagle when I was a kid. He was somewhere around 10 when he was diagnosed with incurable cancer, so my parents made the decision to put him to sleep. The dog always loved going for rides, so he was happy as could be when Dad drove him away for the last time. Little did he know.
I had my little spitfire Cosmo put to sleep last week. She had irritable bowel all her life, but it suddenly became completely untreatable. Everyone was stressed out, she lost a ton of weight and only wanted to sleep on the radiators and shiver.
It was the hardest cat decision I’ve ever made, by far. She wasn’t so sick that she couldn’t have lived for months, but she was so unhappy and I was so unhappy and feeling selfish that so much of my unhappiness stemmed from her not using the litterbox. So I got to feel this crushing guilt that if only I were a better person, she wouldn’t be so stressed out and did I make the right choice? Most of the time I think so, and then I start to write a post like this and realize that I don’t know. I’ll never know.
See this thread that I posted about four months ago.
When the dog was clearly suffering with no option of treatment or even comfort - enough. Stop the cruelty. Let him rest.
I’m sorry to hear about your pet. It’s a really hard thing to make that decision. I had to go through it two months ago, and I can’t even say I liked my cat half as much as most people do.
I’m not sure what’s worse in my case; that I couldn’t man up and stay with Bobby or that, with a couple of months distance between then and now, I don’t really regret it. 
I brought her home from the vet last night and was told that she probably wouldn’t last the weekend. But, just after I called to make the appointment to euthanize her, she suddenly started eating again. What the hell? I mean, I’m delighted, but at the same time somewhere between gobsmacked and confused. I guess I can give her another day or two to try to start eating again. Can cats come back from a bout of kidney failure, high blood pressure and pancreatitis and still live comfortably?
We decided to euthanize my beloved Puzzle (may he rest in peace) when he made it clear he was through fighting. First he refused to eat his meds even when they were dipped in peanut butter. Then he wouldn’t eat them in chicken and rice. Then he wouldn’t eat the chicken and rice.
The vet came to the house so that he wouldn’t have to be traumatized by another visit to the office. My then-wife and I both took the day off and literally just spent it sitting with him on the couch watching TV, one last time.