 |
| Jake at around 4 years of age |
Jake was euthanised in the fall of 2017. My family had adopted him from Metro Animal Control in Nashville in 2009 as a young, sickly kitten and had already saved his life early on from the dehydration and kidney damage he was already diagnosed with at an emergency vet visit and long, ensuing care. He grew up though and grew healthy, playful, and strong. Jake was one of my stepfather's favourites out of the twelve adopted animals we had and was always described by him as a complete joy. But we knew that his kidney damage would likely cut his life short sooner or later. In the fall of 2016 Jake had a relapse and was saved again through a $1,000 emergency vet visit and follow-up care. For under a year he was back to himself. But in the fall of 2017, his kidneys were failing completely. Jake was having seizures, screaming in pain and confusion, couldn't walk, couldn't eat or drink, couldn't urinate or defecate, and the veterinary opinion was that the $2,000 surgery my stepfather couldn't afford held only a one in six chance of saving Jake's life - that is, until the next inevitable episode probably a few months later in which he likely couldn't be saved at all. My stepfather told me that he couldn't bear to see Jake suffer like that and chose euthanasia. He stayed in the room with him for two hours afterwards even after he was gone and took a bit of his orange and white fur they had shaved off of him home to put in a keepsake box.
When is it time to say goodbye to a companion animal you've loved? How do you determine when that is and what are the criteria that make euthanasia the most ethical end of life care choice over treatment or waiting it out?
Sometimes it is clear: an animal who is already dying, an animal with a devastating terminal illness, or an animal whose extreme pain cannot be relieved. Other times, it is not so clearly cut. As a longtime vegan opposed to speciesism, I try to approach this issue from both an ethical and pragmatic basis as well as now one cognizant of the ableism and ableist rhetoric often found in discussions of end of life care for animals. The decision to euthanise a companion animal can be heart-wrenching and extremely dependent on specific circumstances, unavoidable, merciful, and yet also can be unnecessary. Making the decision of when to say goodbye and determining quality of life is often fraught with ableism even if it is sometimes the best decision. So how do we know what to do? Navigating end of life care doesn't mean we can't take quality of life and pain seriously, but it does mean we do not equate disability with a nonexistent quality of life nor weigh the decision to euthanise an animal lower than that of a human loved one.
One important point often forgotten is the extent to which we control the lives of the animals we love. Legally, they are our property and thus cannot exert their own autonomy or will in any meaningful sense according to the law. As vegan ethicist Gary Francione discusses the power we have over animals as property owners, his example of Emma, the healthy Shih Tzu euthanised and cremated rather than adopted to a new home so that her ashes could be placed in her owner's casket according to the owner's will, demonstrates the extent to which euthanasia can be arbitrary, petty, and completely irrespective of the animal's own interests. The prevalence of "convenience euthanasia", or euthanasia performed on an otherwise generally healthy animal for reasons of convenience for the owner, also displays how the decision to euthanise can be based upon an inability or unwillingness to deal with behavioural or physical issues as well as petty ones. As Dr. Frank Richardson, president of the Nova Scotia Veterinary Medicine Association weighs in, "'I hate to say it and I don't mean it derogatorily, but in some instances some owners consider them [pets] disposable'" (Leavitt 2017). Some of these instances may include behaviours like barking or chewing or soiling outside of designated areas which could be managed with training and effort, an animal simply becoming old and "less fun", the owner becoming tired or unwilling to care for the animal, an owner introducing children to the family without the intention of including the animal in further family life, the owner moving somewhere the animal will be unable to live, and so on. The vulnerability of "pets" upon their owners is immense. And yet, animals are very often afforded the ability to do what humans with terminal illnesses or chronic pain are not allowed to safely do: die. Originating from a speciesist view regarding humans as more important than animals, humans in most places of the world cannot choose assisted suicide due to socio-religious cultural beliefs ingrained into the law even if they are already dying or they deem their life unlivable due to chronic pain whereas an animal may be euthanised for merely reaching the age of thirteen as well as when it may be the most ethical choice. When it's time to say goodbye, however, is questionable even when it would not be a euthanasia of convenience. Sunaura Taylor notes in her provocative book on animal and disability connections and liberation, Beasts of Burden , "As we've seen with the frequently gross misjudgments of quality-of-life issues people make about disability, it's important to question assumptions about which lives are worth living" (Taylor 215).
 |
| Emma the Shih Tzu, courtesy of WWBT. |
Disability - any disability - has been long equated with a nonexistent quality of life for both humans and animals, and the idea that they would be "better of dead" has been prevalent both in human disability narratives as well as those concerning animals. Sunaura Taylor notes of her adopted dog Bailey's painful slipped disk disease and the consequent changes on her part as a caregiver and for Bailey adapting to the changes in his life and mobility, Bailey was "for the most part, nonchalant about it all" with some exceptions such as being left alone or entering situations where he perceived he was at a disadvantage (222). Bailey, like any individual, had mixed feelings about his new disabilities and yet his life appeared to him worth living and happy for the most part. Though he has had "numerous mild episodes", they are managed with "medications and care" to allow him to continue to live and enjoy his life for as long as that is possible (222). Bailey is lucky his life depends on someone who was able to afford the treatments he needed and who recognises that determining quality of life is a complex question which should not see manageable pain and disability as reasons for euthanasia. Fortunately, many other people would agree. As many owners of disabled animals would attest, animals who have disabilities or diseases are not in fact "better of dead"; they simply need to be cared for and given the tools and care they require to be comfortable. Often active on social media, a central part of the care these owners give is not only of the medical variety, but of the emotional and practical such as changing routines and making home alterations and understanding their animal's behaviours from a place of compassion and understanding. A dog who cannot run and jump after a stick or who would need a wheelchair to do so is not a dog that would be better off euthanised but, rather, a dog who simply goes through the world differently. That doesn't mean that pain or quality of life should or has to be ignored in a non-speciesist, non-ableist approach, however. Though not explicitly stated, Taylor suggests that euthanasia might loom in Bailey's future remarking "I fear that one day another disk will slip, causing him huge amounts of discomfort and pushing my own limitations as his caregiver" (223). Thinking in terms of oneself or another human loved one may be the best approach when trying to decide if further treatment is even desirable - or if that is what the animal would want at that point. Listening to the animal via their behaviours to determine the most ethical course of care and the care they want to receive - as well as taking into account their prognosis - is important. And every case is different. End of life care for an animal should be approached with the same complexity as if they were a human patient centred around what is ultimately best for them and, to the greatest extent, what they themselves seem to want. Navigating ableism and speciesism in end of life care warrants "listening" to animals and taking their indications of what they want seriously and rethinking the idea of what it means to have no quality of life.
To be sure, there are other circumstances which complicate the ability to avoid euthanasia for even animals who could do well on treatment. One such complication is the inability of the owner to afford it. An owner may be justified in having an animal euthanised if they cannot afford treatment rather than allowing them to suffer. Others may be justified in euthanising a sick animal they cannot properly care for when they are no other options or persons willing to take them. These are hard circumstances low-income people like myself and my family have faced which are exacerbated by the legal view of animals as property and inherently less morally valuable than humans - animals consequently do not have a right to life-saving or stabilising treatment and there is no Medicaid for companion animals.
 |
| One of my two current cats, Nick, who turned 10 this past summer. |
My cat Nick turned 10 this past summer and at his annual vet visit I was told that next year he should have a number of panels done so that any illnesses or complications in his health could be more easily diagnosed in the years to come. A fear crept into my heart. Barring any accidents or things like cancer, I have always known I would outlive Nick and yet now that I was being prepared to think in terms of illnesses which might lead to questions about his end of life care I couldn't take it. I never want to see him hurt or in pain. And yet, I know that just as he follows us around the apartment in dog-like fashion to be close to us, he will likely want to be with us still if at all possible despite illness or pain and that I cannot let my own feelings outweigh what is the most ethical decision if his pain becomes unmanageable or if his wants change. In Jake's case, there was not much of a question of what to do. His treatment couldn't be afforded, it wasn't it likely to save his life, and he was in extreme pain and panic outside of sedation. For Nick's future, I can only treat him as I would want to be treated and give him every support that I can to value his life as he is - not as he was or should be. And perhaps that's all any of us need.
Works Cited
No comments:
Post a Comment