Few friends are as fast and faithful as a family dog. Be it big, small, elegant, or clumsy, one’s first pet is usually an unforgettable childhood friend. But what happens he or she ceases to charm and instead begins to deteriorate, mentally and physically, before your eyes?
My first pet, Chip, is a perfect example of this dilemma. After fifteen years of tough living, our twelve-pound Pomeranian’s once glistening coat has faded to the mucky, wiry color and texture of a brown paper bag. Not that Chip has lived a deprived life-far from it-he has simply been the victim of a few cruel twists of fate.
The losing party of both a dogfight and a car accident, Chip is missing an eye, walks with a limp, and is almost fully deaf. Although it sounds bad, he has been in great shape until recently, when the trials of old age and long-term wear and tear have begun to show on his once-plump now-spindly frame. Looking at Chip, who although still has a bit of a playful sparkle in his eye, has caused me to reconsider the question of pet euthanasia.
Whenever a friend has had to put down a pet over the years, the choice has always seemed obvious-the animal, in a state of horrific pain or at the end of a terminal illness, was quietly euthanized, no questions asked. But recent theories in responsible pet ownership, such as the beliefs championed by Dr. Nancy Kay, author of Speaking for Spot, have pushed pet owners to consider quality-of-life issues when caring for an ailing or aging pet.
According to Dr. Kay, when a pet ceases to be interested in things that used to bring joy (jingling car keys, a bouncing ball), or loses the joie-de-vivre twinkle in its eye, euthanasia is to be considered by any compassionate owner. However, even with modern pet-owner relationships and quality-of-life care in mind, I can’t help but feel hypocritical supporting non-critical pet euthanasia when I oppose human euthanasia on principle. There have surely been times in most of our lives where the spring has fallen out of our step-perhaps even dramatically-but is death ever really the best option? Is the desire to euthanize a pet that may not be at the peak of its life or happiness solely driven by empathy and compassion, or is there usually a selfish motive behind it? Who wants to care for a depressed dog, a companion that’s supposed to cheer us up?
Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer. Even in the case of Chip, my family’s oldest animal-member and most steadfast companion, when enough is enough is not a decision for me to make on my own; it will take a lot of honesty and bravery if we ever decide to put him to sleep. But despite his one-eyed limping exterior, Chip is the epitome of the dog that takes a licking and keeps on ticking, and we must all admire him for that.
Rebecca Quinn is a junior art history, Spanish and French triple major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected]
