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I Hate Animal Deaths

I still have blood on my shoe.

Last night Adam and I were taking the back way to the gym when we drove past a deer lying near the middle of our lane. At first glance it looked dead, but something didn’t register in my mind. For one, we were driving in suburbia where the speed limit is only 25 mph and with a stop sign every block, it’d take a Porsche to go over 25 in such a short stretch.

“Is it possible that this deer was killed by a car only traveling 20 mph?” I thought to myself.

So I turned around.

Put my car in park in the oncoming lane and faced my headlights on the deer. It wasn’t much of a deer … half way between a legit deer and fawn.

No sooner had I got out of my car, the deer opened it’s eyes and starting yelling. I say, “yelling” because that’s what it was communicating to me. The closer I got to it the more it became nervous and started to thrash around in the middle of the road. It tried to get up and run but it’s front legs couldn’t support it’s weight as something in it’s incredibly crafted form had been broken.

It had blood coming out it’s nose and mouth and anus. But all the damages must of been internal, because I saw no compounds or severe lacerations. And as I later surveyed the scene, I saw some pieces that belong to the undercarriage of a car, which probably meant that the deer had literally been run over.

I’m no hunter. I see enough death at the funeral home and I don’t think I have the guts to create it. If it wasn’t for sushi and wonderful holiday dinners, I’d be a vegetarian.

Especially related to animals. If I see a lost dog, or mangled animal on the road …. There’s some sense of innocence among animals, even predators. There’s a sense that they’re doing what they’re supposed to do with no moral evil in them. And to see innocence die is intrinsically senseless … as though we innately know that isn’t not supposed to be this way.

Because the deer was thrashing I tried to push him off the road with my foot so that he wouldn’t get hit again or cause an accident. It was a mutual effort. He thrashed, trying to escape my presence and I pushed with my foot and together we made it to the side of the road, near the grass.

Adam called 911, told the operator where the deer was at and when we came back the same way an hour later the deer was gone.

It was all disturbing. As we exercised, Adam and I wondered, “How do animals experience pain?” and “Is there a good death for creatures in the wild?” and “What constitutes a good death? Old age? A quick, swift death by car?” and “Is there a support system when an animal’s dying or do all animals die alone?”

I hate death. And I hate the death of animals.

****

And all this brings me to a question: What animal/pet death has been the hardest for you?

This entry was posted by Caleb Wilde on January 6, 2012 at 5:11 pm, and is filed under Animal Death. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.You can leave a response or trackback from your own site.

Yshekster

I agree with you Caleb. And there is something in that post that touched something in the soul. Maybe cuz we’re supposed to look after these creatures.
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http://www.parenthoodexperiment.blogspot.com/ Auntie J

I’m the same way…to the point that I’ve actually been on the receiving end of jokes about my soft-hearted-ness. I hate seeing the body of an animal by the side of the road, or in the middle of it. My husband is sensitive to the fact that I’m especially haunted by cat vs. car, and has told me on more than one occasion that I need to close my eyes or look away until he tells me otherwise. I know why he says it; he knows I know; and I look out the window AND close my eyes, and try desperately to not think about what I’m not supposed to be seeing.

The worst? The day I was in the car when we hit a wild dog. My husband’s hometown is a one-light burg, and his home church is about five miles outside of town (such as it is) on a two-lane highway. There was a deep ditch on the right of the road as we headed home from services, and we honestly didn’t even see the dog as it jumped out right in front of the car. The speed limit there was 55, so at least the poor thing didn’t suffer. I went back to the bedroom we were using at his folks’ and bawled. The body was still spinning as the dog’s buddy came up on the road, sniffing and confused. It broke my heart. He didn’t know what had happened to his friend. That was probably about thirteen years ago. I can’t forget it.

Also bad was the day that my husband called (and this was within the last four months) to tell me that I would see a weird charge for $45 from a veterinary hospital on our bank card, and he wanted me to know why. Someone had hit a barn kitten on the highway up to his office from where we lived at the time. I know enough to not want to know more. The old hand towel I had in the van to protect my legs from sticking to the leather seats in our van when I wore shorts…well, it was thrown away. Unsalvageable. Thankfully Hubby had another shirt at the church that he could put on. The charge at the vet’s was to give the ultimate kindness to this 8-10-week-old kitten. I had to tell Hubby repeatedly that he did the right thing. He had several rough days after that. (He’s a softie, too.)

Less difficult but still heartbreaking has been watching my friends walk through the valley of a beloved pet’s death. My best friend gave her retired Seeing Eye dog–her first–to her parents after his retirement (she got him when she was 17) and the birth of her first child, which the dog couldn’t get over. When the time came, her parents had her make the call. Two friends within the last three months have lost beloved pets, one due to car vs. lab, the other old age and illness. My heart ached for them all.

I have yet to cross this particular bridge with any of my pets, but I know it’s coming. I dread the day, for more than just my own pain now. My children love our cats. Their pain, which I cannot stop, scares me more than my own impending heartbreak.

Years ago, I had “adopted” and been “adopted” by a neighbor’s cat. I was heartbroken when he was put to sleep (he was old and had cancer), and I went to my mom, begging to know if Spooky would be with me in heaven. Her answer still resonates: “I know that God has promised us that whatever we need will be in heaven with us. So if you need Spooky to be there, he will be.”
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http://twitter.com/CalebWilde Caleb Wilde

Thanks for sharing!!! I’m glad I found a kindred spirit : )
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Auntie J

In the year since I wrote that comment, we’ve lost two of our beloved cats. One afternoon, when I once again saw blood along the side of our 14-year-old cat’s mouth, I went looking for the cause. I hadn’t seen anything before, but this time, when I forced her mouth open, I saw a massive tumor, and I just knew. The grief was overwhelming. I bawled. I showed my husband, who was shocked. I cried some more. I pulled myself together and called the vet to set up an appointment for the following afternoon, and knew we would not be coming home the same way we went. I cried the whole way to the vet’s the next day. And as we sat in the waiting room, knowing I was probably making other pet parents there uncomfortable (since there’s only one reason why people sit in waiting rooms at the vet’s with tears streaming down their faces), knowing I am not a “pretty” crier, and not caring. I cried all through the appointment. The cancer was fully involved; it had spread to the lymph nodes on that side of her neck, and had moved across to the other side of her throat. My once-20 lb. cat, who had lost weight over the course of the last five years as diabetes and age took their toll on her, weighed a paltry 13 pounds. Obviously, the cancer was keeping her from eating. I cried the whole way home, the weight of my poor kitty’s body on my lap feeling so heavy and yet so empty. We made the right decision, I know. The year anniversary of her death was about 3 weeks ago, and I had an awful time. (I’m sitting here tearing up as I type this; I miss her so much still, and the grief is still horrendous sometimes.) Seven weeks later, we lost our 13.5-year-old cat to probable brain cancer (she was having seizures). She was more my husband’s cat, and I still miss her, too, but not like I do Popoki, who was mine.

The death of that dog and the kitten my husband “rescued” (for lack of a better word) still break my heart, but not quite in the same way anymore. Not since we lost our own furry family members. I’d give a whole lot to have them back (I miss Po’s tolerant affection and Keiki’s constant talking to herself, among many other things about having them in our lives). I’d love to have them back whole, not sick, not hurting. Instead, I have to wait. (That’s Po with me in my profile picture. It was her last Christmas with us.)

Because I need them…so I’m sure they’ll be in heaven, waiting for me.

And, knowing Po, she’ll spend her time stalking my father-in-law and driving him bonkers.
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Caitlin

I have yet to have a pet die but this past summer, we hit a fawn. My husband and I were driving to work and in the pouring rain, a little fawn (white spots and all) jumped up onto the road from the woods and we hit it. My husband ran out and held him in his arms and cried. The fawn had a small abrasion on his head but had no outside damage otherwise. But he wasn’t moving much and I was worried about internal damage.

After watching my husband for a couple of minutes, my heart breaking for both of them, I had to do something so I went into action mode and told my husband to take the car and knock on someone’s door until we could find a phone and internet connection to find a place to take the deer. (We were in the middle of nowhere with no reception.) He left and I sat next to the fawn with an umbrella and we waited in the rain together.

For about 15 minutes, I sat with the fawn and stroked his neck and picked ants off of him. He lifted his head occasionally but would lay it back down and close his eyes. He wasn’t panicky or upset but laid calmly. I wished there was some way to convey to the fawn that we were so, so sorry and that we didn’t mean any harm. In my mind, I was hoping that the fawn would somehow understand that we were sorry and that we were doing the best we could to help him.

Finally, my husband came back but without any success. Luckily, a sheriff came to see what was going on and told us of a wildlife rescue place that might help us. She was nice enough to give us an emergency blanket and we managed to, as gently as possible, take the fawn and settle him in the back seat with my husband. We drove to the wildlife place, dropped him off and made a donation for his care. We got a call later that afternoon that the fawn had died. Unknown to us at the time, SE Wisconsin has a law that due to an overabundance of deer, wildlife places aren’t allowed to help deer recuperate. So they basically made the fawn as comfortable as possible and were planning on releasing him that night.

I still think about the fawn as we pass by the place we hit him every single time we drive to work. I still sort of torture myself wondering if we had done him a disservice surrounding him with humans at the end of his life. Or if moving him killed him for sure. I’ve had people tell me all sorts of things like since he was so young, that he wouldn’t have developed a fear of humans yet and other comforting type things but one can never know. I also had people tell me that having an umbrella over it was pointless (dumb) since deer live outside and they’re used to being rained on and that I should have just brought the deer into work so they could take it home and eat it. Humans are strange sometimes.

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Caitlin

I have yet to have a pet die but this past summer, we hit a fawn. My husband and I were driving to work and in the pouring rain, a little fawn (white spots and all) jumped up onto the road from the woods and we hit it. My husband ran out and held him in his arms and cried. The fawn had a small abrasion on his head but had no outside damage otherwise. But he wasn’t moving much and I was worried about internal damage.

After watching my husband for a couple of minutes, my heart breaking for both of them, I had to do something so I went into action mode and told my husband to take the car and knock on someone’s door until we could find a phone and internet connection to find a place to take the deer. (We were in the middle of nowhere with no reception.) He left and I sat next to the fawn with an umbrella and we waited in the rain together.

For about 15 minutes, I sat with the fawn and stroked his neck and picked ants off of him. He lifted his head occasionally but would lay it back down and close his eyes. He wasn’t panicky or upset but laid calmly. I wished there was some way to convey to the fawn that we were so, so sorry and that we didn’t mean any harm. In my mind, I was hoping that the fawn would somehow understand that we were sorry and that we were doing the best we could to help him.

Finally, my husband came back but without any success. Luckily, a sheriff came to see what was going on and told us of a wildlife rescue place that might help us. She was nice enough to give us an emergency blanket and we managed to, as gently as possible, take the fawn and settle him in the back seat with my husband. We drove to the wildlife place, dropped him off and made a donation for his care. We got a call later that afternoon that the fawn had died. Unknown to us at the time, SE Wisconsin has a law that due to an overabundance of deer, wildlife places aren’t allowed to help deer recuperate. So they basically made the fawn as comfortable as possible and were planning on releasing him that night.

I still think about the fawn as we pass by the place we hit him every single time we drive to work. I still sort of torture myself wondering if we had done him a disservice surrounding him with humans at the end of his life. Or if moving him killed him for sure. I’ve had people tell me all sorts of things like since he was so young, that he wouldn’t have developed a fear of humans yet and other comforting type things but one can never know. I also had people tell me that having an umbrella over it was pointless (dumb) since deer live outside and they’re used to being rained on and that I should have just brought the deer into work so they could take it home and eat it. Humans are strange sometimes.

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Caitlin

Strange not because they would eat a deer since that happens all the time in Wisconsin but that they would offer that as an option, even as a joke, when I was so clearly upset about it.
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Caitlin

Strange not because they would eat a deer since that happens all the time in Wisconsin but that they would offer that as an option, even as a joke, when I was so clearly upset about it.
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http://www.susiefinkbeiner.wordpress.com Susie Finkbeiner

We had to put our dog down this last summer. It was awful. My 3 year old twin boys were confused. They watched their pet get into the van. And then he was gone. My daughter wept horribly for her best friend. But he was in so much pain. We couldn’t watch him like that. I still cry for him. And so do the kids. I mourned his death more than my husband’s grandmother (who I watched die).

Our house is still very empty without him here.
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Beakerj

I love the fact that this bothers you Caleb…one of the things that bothers me in the Christian world is how many believers seem to have no real regard for the suffering of animals. As a former activist in animal rights ( I’m British & I’m not talking about the nutsoid stuff) I was really shocked to see it & it just speaks of selfishness & a lack of compassion. We need to raise our voives to protest (still ) about the hideous treatment of animals, especially in the food chain. Cheapest meat is not the best stewardship.
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http://lifebeforethebucket.blogspot.com Adrian Waller

It’s good to hear you write that you hate death, even if it was in the midst of writing about a dying deer. I feel numb to it, having experienced the death of many people I love, but I can’t imagine how easy it is for you to become numb to it all.
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http://www.sunshinepraises.com/2010/12/buk-cat-heart.html Melanie

My sweet cat of 17 years. He was actually “willed” to me in a suicide letter of an ex. He had been my companion during lots of heartache. He was sweeter than sweet and I loved him dearly. It was also our first pet death with our kids. My son (age 5) and I sat for hours just holding him and weeping. Still a year later, my son will draw his picture and tell me he misses Buk.
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Auntie J

My kids are the same way…they’d only spent four of our 14-year-old cat Popoki’s years with her, but they loved her, and grieved her loss terribly. Their grief was worse than mine in those first few weeks; they hurt so much and I couldn’t take it away from them. I had to teach them how to go on when I didn’t really want to myself. They don’t grieve as much as I do now (Popoki was my first cat), but when the grief hits, they draw me pictures of her to help me feel better. Grief really has no timetable.
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I Hate Animal Deaths

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