Smokey’s End-of-Life Journey: How my dual mindset of both veterinarian and pet caregiver lead to the creation of Black Creek Mobile Veterinary Services
Not a day goes by where I don’t miss Smokey.
He had a kind soul, was always there when I needed him, and he made me laugh and smile at all the “Smokey” things he did. He was a heavy stepper and whenever he came down the stairs, we would hear the thump, thump, thump and say “Here comes Smokey,” with a chuckle.
Smokey was a relatively healthy boy. Other than a torn cruciate ligament that healed well with conservative therapy and a benign mast cell tumour that was surgically removed, he lived life very comfortably. He loved finding sun spots to lay in, playing with his favourite toys - the crinkle ball and cat charmer, curling up with his fur brother Porter, and his food, maybe a little too much!
When I noticed that Smokey was losing weight despite still having a good appetite, I was worried something more was going on. Unfortunately, Smokey was very stressed going to, and at, the vet clinic. This stress actually resulted in a spike in blood sugar, a common occurrence in stressed cats. Luckily, I was able to pre-medicate Smokey to help ease his stress and was able to get the blood and urine needed to start his work-up, followed by X-rays. His results left me with more questions (common in veterinary medicine), but were leading me towards either the gut or the kidneys as the source of his weight loss.
I decided to take him to a boarded radiologist for an ultrasound. This advanced imaging was very helpful in narrowing our focus to the kidneys as the likely source of the weight loss; it also incidentally found a mass on his liver. I was crushed by the news, but determined to help him as best I could.
Even as a vet, I still turned to others for support; my classmates and colleagues, internists, my best friend, and my husband, all supporting me through my struggles as both a veterinarian and caregiver to my own ill pet. I struggled with finding the right balance between wanting to practice the best possible medicine and that which I could afford financially, emotionally, and physically. When I counsel clients in the decision-making process, I focus on the clinical considerations, as well as contextual elements such as personal resources of time, energy, and finances, all as important factors to consider, while continuing to foster the human-animal bond.
There are rarely any clear right or wrong answers, rather a range of options, each with its own pros and cons.
In trying to help Smokey, I was torn in multiple directions. Everyday I looked at Smokey as a patient, concerned about getting in his caloric intake, trying to encourage him to eat with tasty treats and tuna juice and watched him like a hawk at his dish. There were also the meds needed to support him and keep him going, and the challenges associated with actually getting medications into a cat that's not really eating.
I would constantly ask myself, does he look like he’s lost more weight? Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing what’s best for Smokey? He soon began to run and hide when he saw me in the kitchen preparing his food and his medications. Smokey’s condition was not improving despite every best effort. This was a turning point for me.
I needed to let go of my drive to cure him so that I could embrace the time I had left with him.
As I began to explore the possibility of discontinuing conventional medical care and focusing on making Smokey as comfortable as possible, my mind was more at ease with the difficult situation. I was grateful for every day that passed as it was one more day I got to spend time with him. Rather than focusing on all the little details, I began to enjoy the big picture; he was still here and still had a quality of life that was worth supporting.
Starting palliative home care was like a light at the end of a tunnel.
With palliative care and pain management focused on ensuring Smokey's continued wellbeing, we were able to support two more quality months of life.
Each pet is unique in what contributes to their total wellbeing, and as such, one must consider their physical, social, and emotional needs. Smokey’s quality of life was deteriorating. He began to lose his appetite. He stopped grooming, continued to lose weight, and began heat-seeking. He lacked the energy for things he previously enjoyed and no longer minded the things he previously disliked. He became less social, and more withdrawn. And then, ultimately, he stopped eating.
Making the final decision to euthanize came with deep reflection, conversations with my support network, and many tears.
Losing Smokey was very difficult for me. I was in disbelief for months. I would cry so easily at anything. Looking at his pictures and videos helped for a while, but there was also a period where I couldn't bear it, as they served as a reminder of what I had lost.
There were times when I thought I'd catch a glimpse of him, that sent my heart racing as my mind worked quickly to remind me it was not possible. It’s the little things that become so ingrained in your daily life and realize you miss when that loved one is no longer with you.
Slowly, with time, my heart began to heal.
The loss of my beloved Smokey has been, and continues to be an ongoing emotional journey. There are still tearful moments that come very unexpectedly, and I imagine there may still be more as the years go on. However, as I reflect on all my experiences through Smokey’s life and death, I now feel I am at a stage of resolution in my bereavement, where I can look back and feel blessed to have been his pet parent.
I am grateful for all the wonderful moments I was fortunate to share with Smokey throughout his 14 years. I will cherish all of those memories, including those last months leading to his passing, as they have shaped me into a more compassionate veterinarian and shifted my career path towards helping other pet parents through their pets’ end of life experiences with grace, dignity, and understanding.
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