At the Doctor's office

We call before we leave for the office -- we don't want to wait in the waiting room, teary eyed and knowing that at any moment an exam room door could open and we'd be called in to witness our dog being put to sleep. We're told to arrive 10 minutes late, and we do, and we're escorted directly in. I sense then, and later (more in a couple parags) that the staff are averting their eyes because they know why we're there. It must be difficult for them, especially when they know that the dog-parents were particularly attentive. And we've tried over the years to charm the staff there because we feel that we rely so much on them.

We're waiting in the exam room. There's a brown towel on the otherwise stainless table. Is it for cleanup if body fluids leak out? Or to humanize the last moments of a dog's life? Both?

We're as teary as we can be. We say goodbye's and more goodbyes. I put Cassie up onto the exam table and we pet her and comfort her. Eventually the vet and assistant come in. We explain why we're doing this now, and as importantly for us, why we accelerated it by one day. Our vet says that "we were waiting for a sign and now she's given it to us." We agree. There's a form I need to sign that says we're doing this for humane reasons. Humane is the only word I read on the form, I just sign it.

Earlier in the day we'd paid the charge by phone so as to not have to sign paperwork while we were there mourning our dog.

It's explained to us that the first shot just puts her to sleep, on the level that would make it possible for the doctor to do minor surgery. I speak up to point out that with Cassie used to phenobarbital (which I'd read is what they use to actually kill the dog) that the dose should be higher.

The doctor explains that after she's asleep she won't know that we're there and we can stay or leave at that point. And that the second shot, which has to go into a vein, will be the final one. And that 1/100 dogs find that it stings and there's a discomfort reaction of some sort.

And that when she dies her eyes will not close, that that's not a common dog reaction on death.

We nod our agreement. The sadness of those moments choke me up 1 1/2 weeks later. I want to run screaming out of the room, to grab Cassie and take her and say "no no", but it's unrealistic to do so. Our dog is in pain and death is peace...