The Soft Goodbye

This post was written on November 2, 2025, All Souls’ Day

My Halloween pumpkins and mums have been thoroughly gnawed by the deer, my lilac bush is confused and in bloom, and this morning, the church bells reminded me that it is All Souls’ Day, which evoked childhood memories of sitting in a pew and reading through the names of everyone in the congregation who had died during the previous year.  A few nights ago, on All Hallows Eve, friends of mine held their annual observance of Samhain and welcomed the Beloved Dead with food, drink, photos, and stories.  Every year they graciously leave an open invitation for friends to add names to the list, especially for anyone who has died in the past 12 months, and this year I had a name to add.

Anticipatory Grief

I wasn’t sure I believed in soul mates until I met Siegfried.  For 12 years I was closer to him than I’ve been to most humans.  My mother’s purportedly psychic friend once said that he and I had spent many lives together.  Whether or not that’s true, the piercing look of recognition in his eyes when we first saw each other in the adoption center at PetSmart took my breath away. He helped me through the most transformative decade of my life (which included leaving an abusive relationship, making an intimidating career change, and burying my mother)… and sometimes I felt like he came here specifically to see me through that challenging time.

This post isn’t a memorial to him – over the last two years I have discovered some mild comfort in writing obituaries, so I did that in June. [1]  This post is about navigating the complex emotions that are tied together with loss, particularly when you are the one tasked with making the decision to end the life of another living being (or carrying it out).  And although it’s not a pleasant thought to consider, that is part of what you sign up for when you become a pet parent: making devastating choices that are ultimately what is best for the one you love, not necessarily for you.

In 2023 when Siegfried was diagnosed with stage 3 kidney disease, I sat in the waiting room at the emergency vet crying on my best friend’s shoulder, imagining it was the end.  But through specialty food for renal care and medications for hyperactive thyroid and high blood pressure, we got his health conditions stable and managed well enough that our vet said he could have many healthy years left. After two years of hyperfocus on those health factors, assumed that his ultimate, if slow and noticeable, decline would be a result of kidney failure. I never expected cancer to come out of nowhere.  (But who does?)

Making the Call

We got the first available appointment after it was clear that he was having difficulty walking, and after about an hour of running tests, our vet gave me news more devastating than I (a noted pessimist) had feared: that it was likely some kind of blood or bone cancer, that his health conditions would prevent the anesthesia required to confirm the type of cancer, that chemotherapy would be harder on him than the cancer, that euthanasia was a valid option that day, and that steroids and antibiotics would keep him going … until they didn’t.  

Siegfried sat quietly in his carrier on the floor, listening as I sobbed to the clinic’s social worker, who gave me space to feel my emotions and some very useful resources for navigating the decisions I would have to make. [2],[3] Until that point I never understood why people referred to it as a “difficult decision” when putting a pet to sleep: saying goodbye is heartbreaking, but I always believed (and still do) that there is no choice but to do it if the pet is suffering. (It is, in fact, a kindness we show our pets but not our human relatives).  That day I learned that the difficult decision is not the question of whether to do it, but when.  Cats are masters at masking their illness and pain, and I’ve seen friends’ cats go through cycles of good days and bad days, while the person tasked with making the choice is wracked with uncertainty and guilt, wavering between “it’s time” and “not yet.”

I couldn’t even say the “e” word out loud when discussing our options with the vet, but after I got Siegfried home, full of steroids and antibiotics, I called some very dear friends who were willing to walk me through their experiences with euthanasia.  Every conversation was heart wrenching in its own way and touched on the fear of not timing it right: of waiting too long (and prolonging suffering) or acting too soon (and robbing them of time).  While no one was about to advise me on what I should do in my own unique situation, I got a very clear message from several people that, if given the option to do it again, erring on the side of “too soon” would be better than “too late.” And as my therapist put it, there really is no “too soon” once they’re terminal.

Remembrance

I miss him terribly.  He was a big kitty and left a comparably sized hole in my heart (which his historically unaffectionate step-sister has been doing her best to fill over the last four months).  Now is a time when the veil is thin between worlds, which is a concept found in many cultures, as seen in celebrations such as the Gaelic festival of Samhain [4] and Día de los Muertos in Mexico. [5] While the latter can be downright festive in nature, I practically dissolved into a weepy mess in the grocery store this week when coming face-to-face with a sugar skull that looked distinctly feline.

And while I still cry, I am also at the point where I can talk about this loss and the process – because that is important too.  Deciding when to say goodbye to a member of one’s family is excruciating, but hearing how my friends made their decisions helped me make mine (and make peace with it).  And while it can often help to be open about the grieving process, discussions on that subject are often stigmatized and downplayed.  For what it’s worth, I hope this post can do its own part to normalize some of these conversations – for the pet parents… and for the vets.

One of my friends told me the harrowing story of her cat’s longstanding health issues but also of her friend and pet sitter who works at an emergency vet clinic.  I was horrified (but not entirely surprised) to hear that veterinarians in the US have a suicide rate 3-5 times that of the general population. [6] The job has many related stressors, including emotional clients and compassion fatigue, but performing euthanasia five or more times per week is associated with serious suicidal thoughts, according to a study from 2024. [7] 

Visibility and Support

A TED talk called “The Emotional Costs of Euthanasia” explores both sides of the situation: the difficulties for the pet parents and for the vets. [8] It has been in my “watch later” list for a while but remained untouched until now, as I’ve been processing some of these emotions and feel more ready to talk about it.  And that is one of the takeaways from this vet’s talk: allowing yourself to feel the emotions rather than pushing them down and ignoring them is critical to surviving one of the worst responsibilities imaginable.

I believe I did the right thing – and I believed it at the time, too.  Siegfried was my source of support through so many difficult times in my life; it was the absolute least I could do to be there for him and let him die with dignity and without suffering (or as close to that as was possible).  However, doing it was without question the worst experience of my life, which is why I am so truly grateful for my amazing husband, friends, and vet in helping me to navigate it.  But I see now that vets do so much emotional labor of their own and don’t get the support or visibility that grieving pet parents do. 

As our vet’s social worker reminded me, pets teach us to live in the moment.  The vet giving the TED talk I referenced above said much the same thing.  What “living in the moment” has meant to me these past few months is largely practicing gratitude for the people in my life… but in writing this post, I’ve realized that I’ve been remiss when it comes to a handful of heroes in one specific clinic across town. [9] If you have (or had) a pet, I would encourage you (if you can, if you’re ready) to pay that pet’s love forward to your vet.  A kind word or a thank you card is probably more than they get from many clients – and to me, this past June, their kind words and the care they took with Siegfried meant the world to me.

~

If you’re at any stage of this process and need to talk, please feel free to use the space below for that purpose.  Wishing you all comfort and happy memories.
Thank you for reading.

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[1] https://radicalmoderate.online/siegfried-f-steele-obituary/

[2] https://www.lsu.edu/vetmed/veterinary_hospital/quality_of_life_assessment.pdf

[3] https://www.lapoflove.com/how-will-i-know-it-is-time

[4] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samhain

[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Day_of_the_Dead

[6] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/zooeyia/202311/silent-suffering-the-high-rate-of-suicide-in-veterinarians

[7] https://bmcpsychiatry.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12888-023-05402-7

[8] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jh-KKjIJHfk

[9] https://www.pointbreezevet.com/

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