I agreed, and prepared the syringe. Carrie guided me through the process
of calculating a dosage, and finding the best area for the injection; it was
all easy enough, and it appeared that there could be no way for me to
mess up. We re-entered the exam room, prepared to perform the deed;
two executioners headed to the gallows. Though still calm, Eliza was
sobbing very softly while stroking Toby’s mane. I explained the procedure
that was about to happen and ensured that Eliza was still on-board with
the decision.
Now it was up to me, and I cleaned the injection site with alcohol
and gauze. Slowly, I guided the needle into Toby’s soft epidermis and very
gently pushed in the plunger of the syringe, allowing the milky white
Propofol to fill his body and ease him into an eternal sleep. Soon, his
shallow, slow breathing was replaced by silence, and Carrie’s stethoscope
determined that Toby had lived his final moments. “I know that I haven’t
been around lately, but you always waited for me and were always there
for me. I will love and miss you so much, Tob.” Eliza cried openly into
the cat’s marbled fur; her face was the picture of despair.
Carrie asked me to discuss the billing and payment information
with Eliza while she took care of Toby’s body. Not even ten minutes after
this poor woman’s loss, I was asked to request payment for the day’s visit
and the running tab that was placed under Toby’s name. Not only was I
to do that, but also Carrie directed that I push Eliza into buying a very
costly cremation package for Toby. Her lack of emotions must have made
it easier for her to focus purely on the financial benefit, but I could hardly
think of anything other than what I had just done. How could I be so
heartless? More importantly, how was I going to approach such a touchy
subject? I felt guilty and sad and mean doing it. It felt callous to discuss
something so serious this suddenly after it happened. It seemed like I was
asked to take advantage of someone’s weakness in a time of trial. It was
immoral and made me feel like a monster. I was not even entirely sure
that I was completely over what just happened; I mean, I had actually,
purposefully killed a cat, someone’s companion. I managed the task that
was assigned to me but wrestled with these emotions for the remainder of
the day.
On my drive home, I contemplated leaving. I couldn’t handle
this day in and day out, and this was only the first day of what would be
many, I was sure. I burst into tears and confusion-induced wails. Yet, I
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