A Different Kind of Courage

We had to put down one of our two cats today.  Selena, a beautiful, tortoise-shell cat, had an aggressive form of cancer, and multiple surgeries were unable to stop it.  And although my wife and I had discussed the idea of not waiting too long to ease Selena’s pain, it became obvious over the holiday weekend that Selena was suffering greatly, even if she wasn’t vocalizing her agony.  As the veterinarian put it, “She’s stoic.”

But today was the day.

We’ve had to euthanize a number of pets over the years.  It never gets easier, even though we know we are bringing an end to pain and suffering.

I’ve always been the one to go in with the vet, to be there, to comfort the beloved pet, to hold it, pet it, speak softly to it when the time comes, but that’s not the hard part for me.  The drive to the vet is the worst part.  My wife usually accompanies me on the drive, holding the animal, trying to comfort the terrified creature.  I know Selena couldn’t understand what was being said, but it was still hard to find the words to speak to her as we drove her to the place where she was going to die.  What do you say?  “Don’t be scared?”  She had every right to be scared!  We were taking her to the scary place where she’d suffered through a number of surgeries; only this time we were taking her there to end her life.  The hardest part for me was watching my sweet wife on the drive, listening to her as she spent her last minutes with her beloved pet.

I think my dear eternal companion believes she doesn’t have the courage to be there in the final moments.  That’s my job, I suppose, to be there.  When we arrived at the vet, the woman at the counter kindly asked if I wanted to be in the room with Selena and the vet.  It would’ve been easier to just say, “No,” to walk away and leave my terrified cat to her fate, but I just couldn’t have done that.

Perhaps that’s part of being a man.  It takes courage, I suppose, to do hard things.  I was there when Selena died, while my dear wife waited in the car.  I held Selena and petted her as the vet injected her with a sedative.  I held her and petted her and spoke softly to her as she fell asleep.  Five minutes later, the vet returned.  I laid Selena on the table and petted her as the vet administered the overdose of barbiturates that would stop Selena’s heart.

But my sweet bride is mistaken if she believes she has less courage than I.  You see, throughout Selena’s illness, I could never bring myself to examine Selena’s tumors.  I left that horrible task to my wife.  My best friend, the nurturing mother that she is, she felt the tumors, examined them, determined that they were growing back. That took great courage.  Perhaps that’s part of being a woman, facing the challenges, the suffering that men are afraid to face.

I know that, if she’d had too, my wife would have found within herself the strength to be there with Selena at the end, just as I know that, if I’d had to, I would’ve examined the tumors.  But I didn’t have to, because my sweet wife had the courage to do it.  Men and women complement each other.  We are stronger together than we are as individuals.

Now we will mourn together and comfort one another.  And that is as it should be.

Goodbye, Selena.  We will miss you.