Daily Fix
Old Dog
T. SHER SINGH
I have learnt of old Pete’s trials and tribulations, a bit here, a bit there, over the course of several weeks, as I have visited my friends and their dog from time to time.
Pete is 14 years old now … which, they say, is equivalent to a human seven times as old. Which makes him, translated into human terms, 98 years of age.
He shows his age.
He lumbers around slowly, very slowly, from one room to another, and then plunks himself down in the first open space he can find, even if it is right in your way. The household has learnt to merely step over him as he lies there, rug-like, because everyone knows he can’t help it.
The bedrooms are upstairs, but he can no longer climb the stairs or come down on his own, once he’s up. So they have to carry him up … and down. Not an easy task, considering he has a massive presence, coupled with a ferocious, bear-like physique, but a panda’s docility.
He can no longer go for walks. To get him to go out into the backyard, he has to be carried out. He just lolls in the sun, until you are ready to lug him back inside.
He’s been eating little. And lately, feels too low-energy to even ask for a pat or a scratch.
And then, last week, it got worse.
He’s been moaning and crying all night. Every night. He can’t sleep any more. His arthritis pains him even when he’s immobile. And he‘s too helpless to be able to change positions on his own.
The veterinarian has confirmed that she can do little to alleviate his condition, or give him comfort. He is too far gone in age and ailments for a surgical intervention. Medication doesn’t work any more. Nor do pain-killers.
Over the weekend, as I visited them briefly, they gave me the news. Broken-hearted, they have come to the conclusion that it is time for him to move on.
This morning, at 9:00, they’ll take him to the vet who will then gently and mercifully put him to “sleep”.
I have not known Pete long enough to be attached to him like my friends are. I know they love him and are deeply troubled today. But I also know that their decision has been a most loving one … not one of convenience, but guided by love and care.
Having a dog within our own family, I do understand, though, what they are going through this morning.
* * * * *
Ever since I was told of the goings-on planned for this morning, I have been haunted by questions to which I have no ready answers.
I have no doubt in my mind that what is being done to Pete today is an act of love and mercy. To let him wither away in drips and dregs of pain and suffering until he stops breathing on his own is simply not a humane or civilized option.
But then, I wonder, is the decision easier for us because it is an animal and a pet, and not a human being?
What I mean is, what would we do if we had a family member in exactly the same straits?
- extreme and relentless suffering, at an advance and helpless age;
- unable to function in any way;
- the doctors are clear that no medical intervention can or will help;
- the only relief is from an ever-increasing dosage of pain-killers, which, to be effective, will merely reduce you to a comatose state.
Would we, should we, stand by, all the while looking on helplessly as a loved one suffers continually and relentlessly, waiting for nature to take its own course?
What if the sufferer, being otherwise in full control of his faculties, says -- having a voice of his own, which the animal unfortunately did not have -- that it is time for him to go?
What would you do?
If it was your dog?
If it was a loved one, begging for help?
What, in your opinion, would Sikhi expect us to do in such extreme circumstances?
[A caveat: the emphasis is on the word 'extreme'.]
March 25, 2013
Conversation about this article
1: Gurdev Singh (Quebec, Canada), March 25, 2013, 8:44 AM.
You have highlighted well the dichotomy in our knee-jerk responses to the two situations. It is true ... we have no difficulty in showing kindness to an animal, but quickly turn dogmatic and professorial when dealing with a human being in precisely the same situation. Therein lies the correct answer, I believe, guided by Sikhi ... and should therefore be easily discernible.
2: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), March 25, 2013, 11:01 AM.
This was related by Munshi Mehar Din, a noted calligrapher and a friend of Bhai Vir Singh, about Sant Nihal Singh who had a dera in the village where he grew up. In the dera was a dog by the name of Mangli who had attached himself to Sant ji and would always hover around him. Sant ji was very fond of the dog and it was treated like a member of the family. One day Sant ji heard a big commotion and saw villagers armed with sticks running after Mangli who had gone rabid. They wanted to kill him. Mangali ran towards the dera and Sant ji ordered the villagers to back off and ordered foaming Mangli to sit down, which he did immediately, and addressed him: "Mangli, you were born here and it is not right you should harm anyone. Your life span as ordained has now come to an end. I don't want to see you killed in this manner. Go in that field and give up your frame." Mangli did exactly that and in a few minutes passed away peacefully. Sant ji ordered a proper burial and offered prayers for him. Such was the passing away of old Mangli.
3: Chintan Singh (San Jose, California, USA), March 25, 2013, 1:55 PM.
You have raised an extremely timely and important argument while describing Pete's and his family members' sufferings. Unfortunately, as an ignorant person, I am at a loss to offer any concrete opinions on how Sikhi, gurbani or the Rehat guides us on these matters but I would be very interested in the comments of the cyber sangat, including S. Sangat Singh ji, Dr. I.J. Singh, Ravinder Singh, Dr. Pashaura Singh, Yuktanand Singh and other sikhchic.com columnists who have deep understanding of gurbani. In fact, this topic deserves a full discussion.
4: Harman Singh (California, USA), March 25, 2013, 7:59 PM.
Letting go is extremely hard, whether it is a family member or a beloved pet. The right decision is the one that is guided by compassion and love. There is no right or wrong in this scenario.
5: Jivand Singh (New Delhi, India), March 26, 2013, 8:01 AM.
I have been witness to the prolonged illnesses of two loved ones, each resulting in a painful, protracted death. It was hell for me to watch each struggle with cancer, which had deposited water in the lungs. They died slow deaths, virtually choking and drowning, but in gradual stages. I try hard not to think of what THEY went through, if I feel so bad as a mere helpless spectator! We as a society have not learnt to address this issue ... and we need to. I do understand, however, that we have to be very, very careful in finding a solution because the potential for misuse of any set of rules is also horrendous.
6: Baldev Singh (Bradford, United Kingdom), March 26, 2013, 4:07 PM.
We are born, we live a bit and we die ... That is it! How we live and how we die is up to the One, and we cannot give any orders to it. What we can do, Guru Nanak tells us, is to remember the One day and night and then everything in life will find its proper order and place.
7: Yuktanand Singh (USA), March 26, 2013, 11:33 PM.
Advances in medicine allow us to do wonders. We can save lives in incredible situations. But the same medical advances also make us prolong death and prolong misery. I would not want to see a loved one suffer in terminal pain, but only if it was terminal. This is not clear in many cases. We are taught to save lives and as doctors we cannot quit unless we see a flat line on the monitor despite all interventions. Gurbani teaches us to be compassionate. But is prolonging death also compassion? A faint, grey area lies between compassion and the urge as a doctor to save lives at all costs. A doctor is not equipped to cross it, and should not be expected to do so.
8: Yuktanand Singh (USA), March 26, 2013, 11:35 PM.
Stopping further medical support except in the control of pain - even euthanasia - may be appropriate in some cases. But with humans, particularly our loved ones, this is easier said than done. One size does not fit all, not to mention the legal aspects of family or the heirs letting someone die. Such a decision would be best made, as each individual case, by the patient who is rational and not suicidal, and/or by close family members under the guidance of health professionals, jointly as a team. Modern medicine has made it necessary that the clergy and medical community get together and establish some general guidelines regarding when to withdraw medical support. But who will bell the cat?
9: Sangat Singh (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia), April 03, 2013, 7:40 PM.
"prabh bhaavai bin saas tay raakhai" [GGS:277.30] - 'If it pleases God, the body is preserved, even without breath of life." This amazing story recently appeared in a Singapore newspaper about lawyer Suzanne Chin who suddenly went into a comma and was declared irrevocably brain-dead by a battery of topmost doctors, the head of the intensive care unit, two neurologists and a cardiologist. They advised her husband to prepare for the worst and consider taking her off life support. There was no hope. But, Waheguru ordained something else. Three days after she was admitted she woke up from her coma. She was fully recovered within a week and left the hospital. She is alive today in Singapore and is a practicing lawyer. This was also related by Chief Justice Sundaresh Menon in his speech while speaking on euthanasia and assisted dying. "mayraa baid guroo govinda har har naam aukhadh much dayvai kaatai jam kee fandhaa" - 'My physician is the Guru, the Lord of the Universe. He places the medicine of the Naam into my mouth and cuts away the noose of death.'