Euthanasia Veterinarian - Why would anyone want this job?

Everyone has their story, why they do what they do

Mine would include the fact that I watched my mother and my sister die prolonged agonizing deaths in medical facilities, the last thing either of them would have wanted. My mom was a human doctor (as we vets call them) and she knew that we treated animals with more respect and dignity at the end than we do people.

I said goodbye to my own dog, George, in my backyard with the sun shining and my two little boys jumping on a trampoline nearby. I was so sad but comforted by the fact that he was calm, peaceful, and surrounded by love in a familiar place. As I looked around I thought, don’t all animals deserve this?

I opened Claire Place Mobile Veterinary Hospice two years later

To me, it is an honour and a privilege to accompany families as they say goodbye to their beloved pets in the comfort of home. When my clients make thecall to book an appointment, they often tell me it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do in their lives. But by the time I leave their home, they ask me if I can come back when it’s their time. And they are only half joking. I imagine they had no idea that it could be such a peaceful, even beautiful experience. Heartbreakingly sad of course, but beautiful.  

I remember one of my first home euthanasia appointments was for a cat named Freddie. His owner was an elderly gentleman who had made his wishes quite clear: his cat would die at home, on his lap, his favourite place in the world. And so he did, sleeping peacefully, without pain or fear, while his dad held a glass of cognac and played classical music at full blast. This is not something we could have achieved in a clinic setting.

Soon after we were called to euthanize the “shop dog” at a mechanic’s garage. This is where the dog was most comfortable and spent his days lying under the front counter. So my assistant and I crawled under the counter to tend to the dog while five big burly mechanics sobbed silently above. I’ll never forget that moment.

A final moment and a gentle touch

In the picture accompanying this article is a dog named Charlie during his home euthanasia. I tailored his sedative so that he was sleeping soundly on his own bed while his little cat friend, Merlin, snuggled up against him. While I gave the final injection into the IV catheter you see in his hind leg, Merlin reached out his paw and placed it gently on top of my hand. I had never experienced anything like this (and may never again) so I’m grateful that Charlie’s family let me share this picture. To me it is the gold standard of euthanasia experiences. I share this story, and many others, with my students. I have so many stories! This is why I do what I do.

While I consider it my professional responsibility to ensure that the technical procedure goes smoothly, helping families navigate the emotions of this final tender moment is no less important.

I made it my mission and life’s work to ensure that my patients had the peaceful passing that they deserved and my clients had the support that they needed. I trained for years in hospice and palliative care, and home euthanasia, the true art of a gentle goodbye. And now my goal is to share that knowledge, to teach other veterinary professionals how to improve their skills, not just technically but also with compassionate care.

What it means for you as a pet parent

Here I share some of this knowledge with you, the pet parent, to tell you what it means to be a euthanasia veterinarian and why this specialized professional is the best choice for your pet at end-of-life.

As I wind down my veterinary career and I think of the many pets that I have helped to die peacefully, I’m reminded of the moment when it all caught upto me. I had decided I wanted to expand my skills and enrolled in a yoga teacher training in Bali. Every morning, we had a silent meditation during which I cried my eyes out the entire time. I was thinking of all the animals that were in my care over the years.

When I met them in their homes, they would come to the door tails wagging or rubbing up against me, trusting me, not knowing that I was there to end their lives. I wanted them to know, on some level, that I was there to help them, to relieve them of pain and suffering, to release them from the body that was no longer working for them.

I was overwhelmed by this feeling of self-doubt and sorrow.

I think I had just never taken the time to sit quietly with my thoughts and emotions. On day six the meditation was a chant that centred on the belief that we are all connected in the universe — people, plants, animals. And whether I believed that or not, on day six I stopped crying. Maybe the animals did know! A palliative physician joked that that could be the title of my next book. On Day Six I Stopped Crying.

When a childhood friend of mine asked how I wanted the last third of my life to be, I answered – more joyful. While I wouldn’t say that my work as a euthanasia veterinarian brought me joy, it did bring deep meaning and purpose to my life. I hope that I have paved the way for future hospice veterinarians to help animals die the peaceful death that they deserve, and that we might approach this goal for people too.

While I spend the last third of my life joyfully running my Caribbean-inspired patio bar, I know my true passion and identity is that of a euthanasia veterinarian.