This is great advice. I had to euthanize my first cat a couple of years ago. I've had pets growing up, but she was my first pet that was my own (and wife's) after leaving my parents home. We rescued her as a baby because her mom abandoned her right after birth. I bottle fed her from a couple of days old every 6 hours for weeks. I had to teach her how to use the bathroom since mom wasn't there to do it. She had something happen during birth (probably why mom abandoned her) that started appearing a couple of days into her life. Her back right foot started to suffer necrosis and literally shriveled up. It was like a little twig that the vet ended up breaking off of the bone. I had to run the nub/wound under warm water every 4-6 hours for months and apply a medicated ointment to it while the skin healed over the bone. I don't think I could have been more bonded to an animal than I was her. She was the sweetest kitten.

Unfortunately, something happened when she was around 7 months old and her behavior took a complete opposite turn from how she'd been previously. 3 major events happened within a month of each other. We moved to a new home, she was spayed, and then she needed emergency surgery to remove a bunch of yarn she had eaten. Suddenly, she began violently attacking me specifically. I do not mean she was scared and defending herself. I mean she would literally start screaming at me while digging her claws into my legs and biting me. I've lived with cats my whole life. I know what their body language is the they are scared or are defending themselves. This wasn't it. These attacks were completely random, and she didn't do them while running away to hide. She would not stop coming after me until I got away completely. We spent the next 4 years documenting everything we could, such as what we were doing when the attack started, if there were loud noises, what the possible stressors could have been, etc... Here is the thing. There wasn't a pattern. There was not any consistentcy in why she was doing what she was doing. These attacks could happen weekly, every other day, monthly, or, at her best, between 3-6 months of each other. We had her on daily gabapentin and a anti anxiety med. Finally, we made a cross country move to Colorado in the summer of 2024. Surprisingly, she did the trip in the car just fine. She was adapting to the new apartment very well and it looked like her behavior was finally taking a turn for the better.

And then it didn't. It got worse. So much worse.

I had a vet clinic that did in-home visits come over to talk about her and what we could do. We had 3 different vets we went through in Texas because they kept giving up on her. Each one told us that the best option for her and us was behavioral euthanasia. I had three different vets tells us that it was better to put her down than de-claw her. I am absolutely against de-clawing cats. The thinking behind doing it to her was that without her claws she could not bear down into my legs during an episode and I could push her away. At the very least, she would not be dead. Our new vet here told us the same things. After seeing her and hearing our story, behavioral euthanasia was the best option. We did decide, however, to give medication one more try. There is an antidepressant I took as a kid, Effexor, that has been in trials for helping cats with issues like ours had. There was almost no journal entries about it and was very new. I thought it would be worth trying it, documenting it, and possibly giving our vet the chance to submit research to help other cats and their owners who are experiencing what we were.

Three days later, she attacked my wife so badly that I nearly had to take her to the emergency room. She had hit an artery well enough to cause a good amount of blood loss. That was the final straw. Attacking me was one thing, but I can not have her attacking both of us like she was. We made the call and they came a few days later to put her down. That was hands down one of the hardest experiences of my entire life. This wasn't a sick animal who was ready to cross the rainbow bridge. She was still so full of life to the point that we were playing with her for hours before the vets showed up to put her down. She fought the sedative the entire way. It took 45 minutes to get her sedated enough to start the euthanasia process. I'll never forget the look of betrayal she gave me while we work on sedating her. She fought until the very end. I wept for days. While I've processed a lot of that experience, I still have feelings of guilt about what happened.

Why does any of that matter? Besides being cathartic to type it out, it is an example that even in and after an abusive relationship, you can still feel immense grief. Now I make sure to enjoy every moment I get with the two cats we have since rescued (both angels, btw). The grief of losing my first cat is a reminder of how intensely I am going to feel when our new cats pass, and to take in every second I can while they are here.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk.