Everyone who has cared for and loved an animal knows how heart wrenching it is to “make the decision” when the animal is suffering too much and there seems to be little hope of recovery. I’ve been in that position several times and, it never gets any easier. Even when the attending veterinarian concurs or even suggests that it’s time for euthanasia, there are nagging doubts.
A few months ago our horse Sheldon suffered a terrible painful colic. It was in the evening (colics like childbirth seem to prefer the dark!) when the horse started to thrash and throw himself against the walls of his stall. His anguish was apparent and great. A call to the vet brought him from a party to our barn. He examined Sheldon and gave him some calming pain meds. After doing a rectal exam, the vet stated that there was no fecal matter in the colon area and that indicated the problem was in the stomach, which is very serious and not easily treatable.
Sheldon continued to thrash and throw himself around with no sign of improvement. It seemed so dire. My horse caregiver helper Madeline answered my panicked phone call and came as fast as she could to the barn. It seemed hopeless but when the vet gave Sheldon a sedative cocktail, the horse seemed to calm, and he lay down in his stall. The vet said I should wait till the sedative wore off and then to call him if the pain returned. I was left alone to stand vigil for this dear horse. I stood at his stall door with my eyes pegged on him to see any signs that would help me decide if it was time to make “the decision.”
I suddenly got the feeling I wasn’t alone…that feeling when you know someone is looking at you from behind. I turned and a few feet away was a skunk. We both looked at each other for probably one second. I said “Oh s—t” as we humans often do when faced with a crisis, and s/he may have felt the same. I figured my only hope was to turn and walk away, hoping to squelch any threat the skunk might be feeling. After walking a few feet, I turned and saw the skunk had turned and was walking away rather nimbly in the other direction. One crisis averted. And actually some humor inserted into a scary situation.
I kept up the vigil for an hour or so more and noted Sheldon still seemed very relaxed. Whatever was in that sedative cocktail seemed to have shifted something in his insides. He was resting and seemed comfortable. By morning he seemed fine and back to his old self. The vet called and was pleasantly surprised I think. That was months ago, and Sheldon is still happily with us. The decision to give him more time to work through the colic turned out to be a good one. Maybe we got lucky. The decision made by the skunk and I to just turn and walk away turned out to be a good one too. I love it when decisions turn out to be the right ones.