I believe compassion should be bestowed upon all creatures great and small. As part of the 1000 Voices Blogging For Compassion I have chosen to revisit a day which would have turned out so very differently if not for the kindness of strangers and loved ones. If you’re a pet lover, you might want to grab a tissue or ten.
All Creatures Great And Small
This crisp October morning is such a treat after the endless days of rain. Tossing on a light sweater and grabbing the leash I call out to my walking companion. Oscar.
Don’t let this innocent face fool you. He’s a bundle of mischief. A huge chocoholic, his thieving ways have left him consuming more chocolate than my two children combined. A proficient gardener, his digging prowess is phenomenal. A talented athlete, he can whip an appetizer off the table and into his stomach before your guests have shed their coats.
Today after a mere twenty minutes of walking the two of us are in the lovely residential area of Queen’s Park. The leafy, towering chestnut trees have shed their ebony jewels and Oscar is delighted. Over and over he nudges a chestnut and hurls it to the sky, leaping after it to snatch it into his mouth before dropping it to the ground for yet another toss.
Suddenly mid hurl, he lurches. That’s odd. Is he choking? No. His breathing is fine but his stance is wrong. He’s hunched, not quite standing, not quite sitting. And his eyes are rather puzzling; their light has waned. It’s obvious something is terribly amiss. Fool that I am, I’ve left my phone and money at home. I look around in panic. It’s a work day, no one is home. The street is deserted. My dog needs immediate help and I’ve no way to get it.
We trudge ever so slowly to a low rock wall just across the street. I settle him under the shade of a pine tree to consider the options. Just then, a small taxi pulls up beside us to drop off an elderly woman. Before the passenger can even open her purse, I dash over and beseech the startled driver.
“My dog has fallen ill and I’ve no money or phone. Can you take us home?”
His face melts.
“Of course.”
How very kind. Oscar struggles to his feet; he’s aged years in mere seconds. The driver helps me lift him gently onto the back seat and rockets us home in record time. He waves away my proffered tip and wishes me luck. His kindness is calming.
Thankfully our regular vet manages to squeeze us in for an emergency consult. Concerned that Oscar has vomited in my car on the ten minute ride to her office she kindly strokes his head and whispers in his ear.
“We’ll get an x-ray or two, Boy, and see what’s going on.”
Oscar licks her hand and shuffles off slowly behind her.
The x-rays are inconclusive. Perhaps that’s a good thing? Apparently not. She gives me a sympathetic hug and refers us to the Emergency Animal Hospital for more invasive testing.
“I’ll alert them that you’re on the way” she calls out as she carefully ensures Oscar’s tail is free of the car door.
Within the hour we have the diagnosis.
A tumor has torn away from his heart and his thoracic cavity is pooling with the unchecked blood. My numbed brain struggles to make sense of the doctor’s advice. I agree that to drain off the fluid would only delay the inevitable. He gently asks if I have any questions. I do.
“Can we keep him alive until my children get home from school? I’d like them have the option to come and say goodbye.”
I’m motivated by kindness. Just ten years earlier our previous dog, a black lab named Fergus, was losing his own battle with cancer. Believing my five and six-year-old children to be too young to witness his death I alone cradled him as he drew his last breath. They never forgave me.
The doctor’s compassionate eyes grow shiny; he assures me they’ll try.
Hours later it breaks my heart to squelch my children’s innocent happiness. As I choke out an explanation of the morning’s events, their faces crumple and as one they enfold me in a supportive embrace.
“It’s the kindest thing Mom. We have to be with him. He can’t die alone.”
He doesn’t. Snuggled comfortably under a blanket on a clean sheeted mattress he slips away surrounded by love.
Later than night as I share the sad news with a small number of friends and family via email an unfamiliar name pops into my inbox. It’s from the quiet nurse who was with us at Oscar’s bedside.
“Oscar was very blessed to be a member of your family. You are very special and could not have been kinder to him at the end of his life.”
As the tears flow yet again, I consider the wonderful people who also eased Oscar’s way today. The cabbie, our vet, the emergency vet and now this lovely busy nurse who took the time to fire off an email to a grieving family. I’m ever so grateful. Our dear boy was spared needless fear and suffering. Without their compassion things would have been woefully different. If only all creatures great and small could be so fortunate.
Rest easy dear friend and know that you’ll never be forgotten.
This post is but one of over a 1000 that are being published today as part of the 1000 voices blogging for compassion. Check them out on Facebook here.
Enough about me and our dear Oscar. I’ve curious about you. How has the unexpected compassion of others helped you? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
70 Responses
Oh Kelly I remember that day like it was just yesterday. Like then the tear flow down my cheeks freely with heartbroken and loving remembrance. Oscar was a love and was loved. When our beloved Buddy had to be put down it is and was a heart wrenching time.There are days when I still look over in his favourite sleeping spot and hope to hear that warm tail thump of recognition. Those golden boys of ours were and remain treasures. As you know I have had Buddy’s paw print tattooed on me – wonder what some of your readers have done to honour their loving furry companions. You really must share some of Oscars “tails”. For now I will remember your dear Oscar. Miss you friend!!!
Thank you Janice. Buddy and Oscar were hovering around me the whole time I was writing this. I kept thinking of both of them. While my blood pressure was undoubtably a heck of a lot higher at many moments than yours ever was with Mr. Perfect we were indeed blessed to have had them in our lives.
I think putting our beloved pets down is both the kindest yet most difficult thing we can do. Hugs to you and yours
So very true Kerri. I sometimes think we are kinder to our pets than to our ailing relatives. Hugs to you.
Oh, Kel. The tears puddled yet again. I so remember the time I had to drive across Vancouver to take our beloved black lab to his last post. He humped beside me on the front seat, not sure how he belonged there and I talked all the way, thanking him for all the fun and love he had bestowed on the family. He had been one of us from his very young month when he flew out from Calgary and I had to be restrained from running out to meet the plane on its way to the ramp. Years of walks on the beach at 5:30 in the morning with our other golden lab. I gave the leash over to the office lady who seemed indifferent as she led him round the corner and returned in two minutes with the collar and leash. Do you want to keep these? I asked for one more visit to say good-bye and she remarked, “Too late. He just walked through the electrified pool.” Shattered, I cried blindingly all the way home. They are all part of our family and of course we greave. Love, Mum.
Thanks Mom. I am heartbroken and yes, feeling dreadfully guilty that you had to do that all alone. I should have been with you. It is one of the hardest things to do I think. However, take heart in the fact that you were with Osler at the very end. That was the kindest thing and I know he passed on knowing he was loved.
As I type this my sweet puppy is resting her head on my lap and confused as to why I am dripping of tears, but seriously my heart was breaking at the inevitable news that we shared with you on this fateful day. Also, you just totally reminded me that about a year ago, my husband’s family was also given a similar diagnosis for their beloved Black Lab (Mookie) and was also there when he took his last breathes. Hugs and just so glad to hear of the compassion of others when you had did indeed lose Oscar.
Love that you read this with your pup nearby. It is such a hard thing to say good bye to them and I hope it is something both of us won’t have to do for a very long time!
I managed to hold it together Kelly. I’ve never had such an experience and I can only imagine how devastating it is. I love hearing that the cabbie didn’t hesitate to help you out.
Unexpected compassion happened with Christopher and I last summer. We were headed back from my parents house and had approximately 1 hour to go. We stopped to get a snack and use the bathroom. When I came back out the car did not start. I had no idea what was wrong or what to do. We were in an area where I didn’t have any cell reception and my husband was out of town.
Long story short, two WOMEN came to my aid. They jumpstarted my car and told me to drive straight home suspecting that it would happen again if we stopped. I can’t remember what was wrong with my car but it did have to be towed from the house.
That was so very kind of those two to help you out. People really are good hearted and they rise to the occasion time and time again I find. I’m so glad you got the help you needed.
Jeez, my heart was racing while reading your blog today, Kelly.
Glad things turned out fine!
And no doubt he is a cute pet >3
xoxo
Thank you for reading and commenting Ruchira. It was indeed a difficult day made easier by the kindness of strangers.
As the guardian of a mischievous Golden myself, this one got me right in the heart. First let me say I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend and family member. Our pets, and dogs in particular are such wonderful companions and teach us so much with their unconditional love and loyalty. I’m glad that the people around you on that fateful day were compassionate and made things as easy as they could be for both you and Oscar. You also showed Oscar the ultimate compassion by not allowing his suffering to continue. Thank you for sharing your story today.
Oh Jen I am delighted to hear that you too have a mischievous golden. Life is never dull with them in our lives is it? May you have many, many wonderful antics together for years to come. We are indeed blessed to share our lives with them.
Oh, how horrible! I’m sure that even writing this dredged up some sad memories for you. That cab driver was super nice. I can’t imagine how hard it is to say goodbye to a family pet like that!
It is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do Kim. But yes it was eased by so many wonderful people. Hopefully I won’t have to go through it again for many more years to come.
About 15 years ago we had a (very) elderly cat that had a tumor in his mouth. Every few months it would grow large enough to pop, causing blood to drip all over, but each time he recovered. One day, though, I watched him deteriorate while the boys were at school. I didn’t want to take him to the vet without allowing them to say goodbye, but I felt horrible about allowing him to suffer for the day.
When the boys arrived home they each had a moment with the cat, but no one wanted to make the drive to the vet with me. It was SO hard to make the trip, and even harder to come home with an empty car.
Aw Kathy I am so sorry you had to go through that. Isn’t it just the hardest? How lovely though that the boys were able to say goodbye. That is something they’ll always remember.
Oh Kelly. Bawling here. The kindness and the love and the help from the cabbie… I had to make a similar decision with my dog a couple of years ago and still remember the feel of his giant head on my lap while he went. He went with love and whispers in his ear. I love that you shared this story for #1000Speak. Love so much.
Thank you Kristi. You get it. Isn’t it just one of the hardest things to do? Oscar and I were indeed blessed to have so many kind people ease our way that day. I’ll never forget it.
So glad your children were able to say goodbye – and that you could support each other through such a sad goodbye. This is such a beautifully written post!
Thank you for your kind words Susan. It was a really difficult day and one I hope we won’t have to relive for a very long time to come.
Oh, Kelly, this touched my heart. Lots of tears reading this. Much love to you.
Thanks for your kind words Stephanie. It was a difficult time that was much eased by the compassion of others.
Once again you have written a heartwarming piece Kelly, although this time you made me cry, not laugh. We have had to say good bye to several of our beloved furry friends, and it is heartwrenching every time. They are such a special part of our lives, and touch our hearts forever.
I agree Jane. It is absolutely heart wrenching. Their memories – such as Misty craftily opening the sardine tin without cutting herself – are the glue that keeps us whole. May neither you nor I have to go through such a sorrowful time for many years to come!
Holy hell – if you told me the first post to make me cry tonight on my reading list would be about a dog, I would have scoffed. Scoffed, I tell you. I love animals absolutely, but I am not a crier by nature. I have been present with a beloved pet in her last moments and that was not an animal I was particularly close to. If something happened now? To one of my Rotten Cats? I think it would be very sad for all of us.
You make a point here that is sad but all too often true – that we are kinder (as a society) to animals in pain than to our own sick and elderly. That’s something we need to work on.
This was a beautiful and sad story and I’m just so glad that your family was able to be with Oscar in his final moments – a blessing for all involved.
Thanks so much for your kind words Lisa. I’m not a crier by nature either but when it comes to my pets – whoa! And you’re right – it was a blessing for all of us to be with Oscar in his final moments. His passing was so very peaceful. By the way, Canada has just passed a law that will look into the benefits of euthanasia and I am curious to see how that unfolds.
So sorry for your loss, dear Kelly. What a special family to have such a special Oscar. You are so full of love and compassion it’s no wonder you were surrounded by the kindness of strangers. Thank you for sharing this beautiful, sad and also uplifting story.
Thank you Nicki. I think the most astonishing thing for me in the entire exercise was the fact that the cab pulled up out of nowhere just when I needed it. The street was deserted and there are usually no cabs in that area. It was remarkable.
What a heart-wrenching and yet beautifully written post. I know our dogs mean more to me than I could ever put into words and even though they can’t speak, seem to understand those very subtle nuances of emotion that people so often miss. I have posted quite a few dog posts.
I will be doing a review of the posts I have read and will include yours. I follow quite a few dog blogs which would love this.
My post for the big day addresses the compassion fatigue I experienced trying to pick just one topic. I also plan to write a last post just before the sight closes because I have really picked up on a need for more compassion and I wanted to share some inspiration public outpourings of compassion.
https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2015/02/20/compassion-fatigue-a-light-bulb-moment/
xx Rowena
Hi, thank you so very much for your kind words and for the inclusion of my post into yours. I am keen to check out your compassion piece and will head over to your site now. I cannot imagine my life without a dog. It would be empty indeed. Oscar’s follower (not replacement – he was one in a million) is Poppy – a border collie cross mix. She loathes getting into trouble and has a lovely disposition. I’m very blessed. As I suspect you are as well.
Such a beautiful post. It’s so hard to let our beloved pets go, but the kindness and compassion of the people around you that day must have helped!
Oh Lana the help and compassion of others around us did indeed help. Thank you so much for your kind words. I hope that neither of us have to go through that kind of a goodbye for a very long time to come.
This post had me in tears. The memory of having to say goodbye to our own girl the same way. Thank goodness for the compassion of so many vets & their staff. For you, what a wonderful cabbie to help you out.
Donna that is so very true – that cabbie was a gem. I don’t know how we would have managed without him as I couldn’t leave Oscar to traipse through the neighborhood knocking on doors. Taught me a huge lesson of always carrying my phone with me. And I do hope that neither you nor I have to go through such a sad goodbye again for years to come.
Kelly, I see compassion throughout your post but what struck me the most was the compassion you showed to your children. You included them in a very difficult situation, which certainly wasn’t easy for you, and helped them to grow and understand the world a bit better. I think that putting ourselves in other’s shoes, as you did for your kids, is a big part of compassion. And by showing compassion, you helped to pass along that lesson to your kids. A win for your family, even in the midst of tears….
Thank you Anna. The decision to involve my kids was made so much easier by the fact that I didn’t do that with our first dog Fergus. My two were so upset with me. So I reacted as a result of that lesson they taught me ten years ago.
The cab drivers compassion was amazing but I am really identifying with your concerns for your children. Two years ago our dog appeared to have brain tumor and when I took him to the special vet they were also 95% sure he did. I spent the time while they were testing him looking for books and advice on how to explain to my children (the oldest was almost 4) what happened. Luckily he was ok but as they get older I think it will be harder. I am happy for you and them they could be there.
I am so happy that your dog was okay Leigh. So, so happy. It must have been such a difficult time while you were awaiting the diagnosis. My decision to involve my two children was made for me really. They were so upset that I didn’t involve them when Fergus – our black lab – passed away ten years earlier. I just knew I had to ask them this time.
I can barely see what I am typing…………..I am a dog lover who now owns two cats. We never asked for them, they just chose us as family. And isn’t is funny that the most precious moments you have are with these wondrous creatures. They can’t talk but they make you feel alive.
God bless all those who were with Oscar and helped him through. Hugs to you and your family, especially your little ones. God bless their brave hearts. This is all I can write here…………………….the tissues are not helping.
I would pass you a box of tissues through the screen if I could. Thank you for your very kind words. Oscar passed away four years ago now and the thought of that day still brings on my tears.
Your cats chose you as a family? How very special. Did they arrive at the same time or at different times?
Thanks for sharing this beautiful post, Kelly. I did cry, but I felt comforted by the compassion demonstrated by everyone in this story (the cab driver, the vet, the nurse, you, and your children). And thank you for mentioning that you waited for your children to be there because they’d been upset to not be there with their first pet. My little ones were present when our beloved cat needed to be put to sleep (at home) this past summer, and I’d been questioning whether maybe they were too young to witness death firsthand. But I suspect that they would have been as upset as your children were if I hadn’t included them. I’ve also been trying to explain compassion to my little ones recently, and I am going to share your story because I think it will help demonstrate to them the points I’ve been making less effectively on my own. 🙂
I am so very sorry about the passing of your cat Donna and how very special that your two were there. Their presence must have also brought great comfort to your beloved cat. I well understand your questioning it though. I thought long and hard as to whether M and H should be there when Fergus passed and made the wrong decision in the end. They were so upset that they hadn’t been there. So cudos to you for making the right call. That took courage.
Oh this is heartbreakingly beautiful!! What a precious story… of true compassion.
Thank you Chris. Looking back on it now I am still struck at the immense kindness that surrounded Oscar that day. From the cabbie to the lovely emergency vet nurse. He was blessed.
Oh, Kelly – what a beautiful and heartbreaking story. I’m so sorry for the loss of Oscar, but glad that you and your kids were able to be there with him as you said goodbye. My Nellie is ten years old, and I get choked up thinking about what it will be like to say goodbye. Hopefully it will be many years from now, but you never know. I’m going to give her a hug right now.
Thank you Dana. Oh Nellie! Her twin – our Poppy – is lying behind me right now patiently awaiting her walk. Yes, may it be many, many, many years before we have to say our goodbyes to these darling girls.
Yep. You did it, Kelly. My eyes are shiny too.
I’m a huge animal lover, and to think of being in that situation with my beloved dog. Yes, I’d need all of that compassion.
I do hope it will be many, many years before you have to be in that situation Tamara.
I am so sorry you lost Oscar, but so glad all these people had so much compassion for you, your family and Oscar.
Thank you Astrid. It was indeed a very difficult time and I shudder to think about what it would have been like without the compassion of all the other folks.
Kelly, this post is tender and gets-me-going. I remember my own good-byes. You show me how beautiful and heartFULL letting go is. Thank you so much for sharing about Oscar leaving. I especially love how you wanted your children to be there and that they could be. So beautiful and teaching.
Thank you Susan. It was over four years ago and the memory still brings tears to my eyes – especially when I write about it. But if there was a possibility to tweak everything but the end result I truly don’t think I’d change a thing.
It is so hard to say goodbye…to let them go. So much sadness. Beautiful story. Hugging both my fur babies….
I thought of you when I posted it to the Inspired group Debbie. I hope your two are doing well.
Yes Kelly….thank you for asking. Our furbabies are doing fine, Cosmo has adjusted so well to his new cart. He is wearing me out….always wanting to head down the street to say “hello” to all our neighbors! I know our time with him is limited, so we just make sure we enjoy each and every moment!
Oh Cosmo. He makes me smile. Can just see him zipping all about with you trying to keep up. May you have many, many more days together.
Sniff, sniff! Oh, Kelly, sorry about Oscar. And you’re right. So many people were kind throughout his last day–especially you, mom, for letting your kids be part of it.
Thank you Katy. I was guided by the memory of how upset they were when our black lab Fergus passed away ten years earlier and I mistakenly felt they were too young to be there.
What a beautiful, sad story Kelly. Our golden retriever also took ill suddenly when I was in college and I flew home to be with her before she passed. So much kindness in your story — heart warming. Hugs to you.
Oh Lisa, thank you for your kind words. And I so get that you flew home. She must have been so very comforted by your presence. Sending you a jumbo hug in return.
I was fortunate to have a compassionate vet willing to come out the farm for that day when my beloved mutt Gatsby indicated he was ready to let go (for more than six months prior I waited for his request to make this so). It was the 4th of July when I recognized his appeal. It took a full hour and 3 times the usual meds (he lived and died with a stubborn streak) before his organs fully ceased working. The horses went crazy (they somehow knew a companion they cherished was leaving this world), but he passed near them, in a comfortable spot at the farm he called home for most of his 15 years. We buried him adjacent to the 30-acre farm herd pasture. I’d like to believe that’s something he’ll appreciate in the hereafter.
So sorry for your loss, Kelly. It’s wonderful you found so many kinds souls along the way to ensure your kids were included in the goodbye. Hard, for sure, but imagine they’ll appreciate the opportunity and memory that allowed them to be with their friend as he passed.
Oh Nanette my heart aches for you too. That period of waiting for them to say goodbye is difficult. We had a similiar situation with our “first born.” Fergus, our lovely black lab, was with us for two years before the birth of our daughter and he lived for another six. He got cancer as well and he hung on for six months. I too let him tell me when it was time. People ask me how do you know but they let you know don’t they?
Oh Gatsby! That one hour and 3 times the usual meds is very telling. What a guy. I’m so amazed that the horses knew. How did they show it?
Yes, they will tell if you’re paying attention, won’t they, Kelly. Sorry to hear you went through that with Fergus but there’s something comforting about you knowing they know you included them in timing the decision – and responded to the ‘help me’ request.
The horses went crazy (about 15 in this farm herd) – galloping and screaming around the pasture the whole time my vet and I were administering drugs – and comfort. Frankly, I was shocked the horses seemed to know too. Never seen anything like it before or since. He had a very uncanny connection with each horse that came on the property – a bond that seemed to occur immediately – which is something I never fully understood either.
Whoa. That must have been quite something Nanette. Gatsby must have sensed it too – and heard it and been furthered comforted. 15? All galloping and screaming. Sheesh. What a lovely boy he must have been.
I am so sorry for your loss, Kelly. I lost a rabbit 2 years ago and it still breaks my heart. I couldn’t bare to be there, I walked out then back in, then I walked out then…. the end of it is an haze, I remember talking to the vet, but I was petrified of death and seeing my bunny die, so I think I walked out in the end, I’m not sure. My kids weren’t around, I’ve got no idea how it would have felt differently, but it seems that it worked out for you beautifully creating memories of kindness and togetherness.
Oh Tat that is heartbreaking. I am sorry. We also have a rabbit and I do understand. She is a part of our family as well. When our first dog passed away I made sure I paid the vet bill in advance as I knew I’d be in no shape to do it afterwards.
Sending you a jumbo hug.
So sorry for your loss…even if it was a while ago I’m not sure we ever really get over any death. Just last night my daughter and I were having a conversation about our elderly cat Libby. She is a 19 year old completely blind tortes shell cat. She stays with my daughter. We’ve had her since she was 7 weeks old. I had to ask after I heard Libby fell off the bed becoming very disoriented how long it will be before we may need to visit the same issue you had to deal with. She seems very healthy at the moment but she seems to be losing her will to live. She gets very crabby with Minnesota winters and Anna, my daughter, does all she can to keep her feeling as warm as she possibly can. She even has a heat light for her. Every time I look at her these days I tend to remember all the animals that have come before her that we’ve had to say goodbye too. All loved and all missed and for sure a real hardship when they’ve had to be put down. So I feel your pain and send you loving hugs to you for your remembrance of your loved Oscar.
Oh Kelli this is just so hard. I am sorry. 19 years old? That is a huge chunk of your life and your daughter’s. How kind of Anna to provide her with a heat lamp. I am sending you all a jumbo hug.