Of course, we would have liked to keep Väinö, but it is a love to let a pet out of suffering, writes Maria Lassila-Merisalo in her column.
Our dogs died in November. Its heart had symptoms for only two days, and a few hours after receiving the diagnosis it was gone.
The Dalmatian Väinö was our first dog, only four years old. We got it from the breeder at a discount because its other eye was blue when it should have been brown.
I wondered before people in whose lives the dog seemed to play an almost central role. I did like dogs, but I imagined they were, well, just dogs.
The rest of the family had wanted a dog for a long time, and eventually I bowed too. Väinö instantly took his place in our home and created a unique relationship with each member of the family.
Our middle child has been seriously ill for years and was a chronic pain patient for much of Väinö’s life. Väinö listened to things that were not meant to be heard by people, and its coat was soaked countless times with tears.
Väinö listened to things that were not meant to be heard by people.
Studies support my findings. Professor Hannes Lohi has long studied the genes of dogs and at the same time seen a lot about the relationship between man and dog. Salmon has found that the speed of attachment of a dog and a person always surprises him.
Many studies have found that dog ownership supports a person’s self-esteem and the awakening and expression of positive emotions. Pets can also satisfy basic psychological needs and fill in missing relationships.
Vet called and said the heart medication had not worked. He called us to the doctor’s office to decide what we would like to do. We realized he was talking about euthanasia.
Väinö had been lying for hours breathing hard, but when it was brought to us, it waved its tail eagerly. It smiled, raising its upper lip and exposing its teeth, as is the custom of many Dalmatians. It toured all of us rattled.
Its pupils had dilated with medication. Maybe that’s why it looked so sad.
We parents told the children and ourselves that it was time to let Väinö go.
The vet further confirmed that we had ended up in euthanasia. Then he went to get the necessary equipment.
Our middle daughter rushed out of the room feeling sick. The pit soon followed, then Dad took care of them.
The firstborn stayed with Väinö with me, but he also left after the first syringe was emptied into the cannula. We stayed in the room with three people: me, Väinö and the gentle vet.
When the last syringe finishing death emptied into Väinö’s bloodstream, I noticed that a radio was playing in the room. “Everybody hurts,” the soloist sang in REM Michael Stipe. At that moment, Väinö was no longer in pain. The rest of us have even more.
Man is the only species that is aware of all mortality. Terrible burden.
The euthanasia decision was heavy. Of course, we would have liked to have given more medicine, a little more, if it had worked and we could have kept Väinö with us.
On the other hand, we had the power to let our dogs out of their suffering. Great act of love.
We had the power to let our dogs out of their suffering.
I would not have thought Väinö would die before my mother. The mother has long been mentally ill, speechless for years. It feels contrary to all reason and grace that his heart pumps blood from day to day when there are only rips left of cognition.
Cancer dead MP Maarit Feldt-Rannan spouse Vesa Kallionpää has spoken out in public for euthanasia after seeing the pain caused by the disease.
Former director of Terhokodi, which specializes in hospice care Juha Hänninen has asked whether it is ethically correct to expect natural death when only death can end human suffering.
What is essential, of course, is one’s own will. My mother can no longer express her will, but what about those who can. Shouldn’t they be able to help them get away?
I’m sorry the power surprised me, but I am beginning to understand it.
The dog determines the rhythm and routines of his home. When it no longer exists, its absence is constantly noticed. I woke up at seven on Sunday morning to give it food. When I got home, I wandered to wonder why it wasn’t up against it.
I cried sadly. I cried for the inconsolability of our children. I guess I cried even crying.
The day after Väinö’s death, I received a consolation hug from a man who has had to bury his own child. I was ashamed. I just Surin the dog.
I was ashamed. I just Surin the dog.
The comparison leads nowhere, for there is always someone with a greater reason to mourn.
My dog was dead and I got to miss it. I let the tears drain and decided to openly express my grief in the some as well.
When a man dies, the grief of a loved one easily becomes a lonely experience because the grieving person is difficult to approach. Scare. Can we be right, what if we say something stupid?
The death of the dog seemed to cause the opposite reaction. I got hundreds of entries. I was moved by a friend who was crying from the parking lot of the store, and the friends he had been crying for, even though they had never even met Väinö.
At work, two people started crying only when they saw me. Lunch conversations recalled numerous dog stallions with warmth and love.
Even if I was surprised at how important Väinö became to our family, I was even more amazed at what its death gave: a collective experience of grief that cleansed and comforted numerous people.
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