It was a bittersweet day for me. Teddy, my almost 17 year old perpetual puppy I put down on Oct. 2, 2009, kept coming to mind. It was not the good times that kept coming to mind, it was his final hours, when his little body gave away.
On that day, I was downstairs in my studio working, when I heard a big ‘thump’ from upstairs. I ran upstairs, and Teddy had collapsed in the bedroom.
I called his vet, telling them this was an emergency and I thought it was time to put Teddy down.
I couldn’t intuitively reach Teddy clearly to see what his wishes were, partly because I was so emotionally distraught, partly because Teddy was unreachable at that time.
The fact he was unreachable told me a lot. In my gut, I knew it was Teddy’s time to go, and I needed to help him transition over.
Clearly knowing that information did not keep me from crying and resisting what I knew to be true.
As soon as the vet entered the room, I told him of my decision. After his exam, he agreed with me, talking about the quality of life Teddy had had, as opposed to the quality of life he would have had, had I elected to put him through the surgery.
Apparently, Teddy did not agree with this exchange.
His vet tech gave him the penultimate shot. She explained this shot was to relax him and calm him down before the final shot. Teddy was a fairly small guy, only weighing 32 pounds. She said this dosage would relax him, rarely had she ever had to give two shots, even to dogs bigger than Teddy.
Apparently, Teddy didn’t agree with this either.
He had to have two shots. It was clear to me he was resisting transitioning, he didn’t want to go. Yet in my heart I knew it was Teddy’s time to go. Because of that sure knowledge in my heart, I did nothing to stop his vet and vet tech from euthanizing him.
Had I done right by Teddy? I couldn’t answer that question. I finally reached out to fellow animal communicator, a caring and sensitive soul, and a talented communicator. She connected with Teddy, telling him of my worries. Teddy replied he hadn’t been ready to go, if left to him, he would never have left, but now that he had transitioned, everything was fine. He was having a good time.
While we want things to be crystal clear at all times, that is not the way it is. The truth is we live in mystery, an uncomfortable state for us. During Teddy’s last hours, it was important I trust my gut, trust what it told me to do was best for all involved – especially Teddy. It was also important I reach out to people for their support.
Sometimes mystery is actually a beautiful tapestry.