Kerry,
 
I am so sorry for your loss and doubly sorry for how horribly it was handled.  I hope whoever this vet is that he gets an earful.  You might want to call your state veterinary board or state dept of agriculture (who in most states oversees veterinarians.)  I don't think that is even legal.   I have usually had to sign papers to have my cat euthanized.  I am so sorry.  Pookie knows you loved him though.  And I know he's grateful to have found a loving home with you after all he had been through.  I have been through experiences with euthanasia that haunted me as well.  You have to try to make peace with them, but I know it's hard.
 
take care,
tonya

Kerry MacKenzie <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
Belinda,
Can you please add my darling negative foster kitty Pookie to the CLS.
Pookie was euthanized on Monday March 27 (read on for the way this was mishandled by the clinic, which will haunt me for the rest of my life).
Pookie was 16 or 17 and had chronic renal failure. He had also been deaf all his life--he was white with blue eyes, and apparently white cats with blue eyes are often deaf. I took him to the animal hospital associated with the shelter on Monday morning as his breathing seemed labored and he didn't seem to want to eat (he ate from my fingers in the end) or drink. I fully expected to take him home again.
A terrible thing happened at the clinic. Even though I remained in the waiting area of the clinic and had even told the intake receptionist when she asked if it was a drop-off that I was not going anywhere, the vet euthanized Pookie without telling me. He apparently had tumors and fluid on the lungs. (Obviously I never saw the X-rays either.)
I don't have to explain to anyone on this list how that felt. That I wasn't there to hold and comfort him in his ultimate time of need--even though I was just feet away--will haunt me forever.
I wrote a strong letter to the clinic owners the next day, copying the shelter CEO (PAWS), and wrote a second letter today in response to theirs, which raises more questions than it answers.
Pookie was a wonderful little guy, bearing his illness and his subQs with fortitude and dignity. He had had a hard life. His guardian, a domestic violence victim, had fled their home last summer with Pookie. She and Pookie lived in a car for some time; it was so hot that she was buying ice bags to keep them both cool. She found her way to a women's shelter, but as they wouldn't take pets, he was transferred to Paws. An observant volunteer noticed he was withdrawn and pushed the shelter director to get him fostered with me (apparently it wasn't straightforward--lot of bad feeling between the volunteer and the director). I am so glad that she did that. Pookie was a joy to have around. I was very concerend about my cats bullying him--he was skin and bone and must have weighed about 5 or 6 lb--but he soon ruled the roost in our house using brain, since he no longer had the benefit of brawn, and had even young thug Tiger whipped into shape within days.
The last night he soent here, Sunday, he slept, for the first time, curled around my head, with his little paws gripping my hair. He also had this cute little habit of licking my hands and arms. Although I had the privilege of sharing my home with Pookie for only 5 months (apart from a short break when he went back to his original guardian--it didn't work out) he was the most physically affectionate and loving of all my cats. I loved the little fellow dearly and miss him very much. For such a little fellow he truly has left a huge gap.
Kerry
 
 

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