Foo

Foo has been a member of my son’s family for almost 15 years. On Tuesday Foo joined his best friend, Toffee, to whom I said a tearful and painful goodbye almost 4 years ago.

Saying goodbye to a pet was as difficult for me as losing a family member. When asked if I will get another dog, my answer for the past 4 years has been a definite “no”. I don’t want the responsibility of choosing death for another being.

I had a discussion about death of pets with my son and my sister last night. My sister is a farm girl from the prairies, and has even taken care of end-of-life decisions for her pets on her own instead of calling on the vet. It’s not something I could ever understand, unless I had lived her life.

Most of her pets did not live in the house, sleep in her bed, or become her whole focus of living, therefore choosing when they should be “put out of their misery” is very matter-of-fact for her. Toffee lived in my house, slept in my bed and did become a major everyday focus for me for 11 years!

Not long ago I had a good conversation with my friend who has worked at a care home for several decades. We were talking about death and the toll it takes on us. He said that it is easier on him when people are only in his care for a short time — not long enough for him to get attached.

In mom’s ward there are 16 beds; in the past few months at least 6 people have died…some after only a few days and others after several years. Of course mom doesn’t notice or remember these things, so the change has not affected her. And although the care staff continue on with their daily responsibilities like nothing has changed, I can’t imagine the toll that the constant loss must have on their hearts.