I feel like I've been waiting for the inevitable.

My Kira Kat is in failing health.

She has gone from a robust and confident creature to one looking frail, thin and sickly.

She has lost weight to the point of being skin and bones. She has stopped grooming herself. One side of her face is paralyzed. And she has a chronic case of the sniffles.

I am forced to consider having to play god.

I hate it.

People speak of this in terms such as "euthanasia" and "put to sleep" but it's really a form of killing.

Can you imagine someone saying, "Grandma's medical bills are getting expensive. We should have her put to sleep," or "Grandpa no longer has quality of life. It's time for him to be put down."

Some people would say an animal's life is not worth that of a human life. Whatever you believe, however, I think how we treat our animals is a reflection of who we are as individuals and as a society.

Unlike humans, our animals can't tell us what they want or make life and death choices. But I can't imagine any animal would choose to die.

I realize, too, that euthanizing pets is not intended to be cruel, but rather to avoid suffering. I applaud that. Yet, I still struggle with it on a philosophical level.

Kira Kat has been a part of the family since her birth April 30, 1999. She was born in my house.

I was working with an animal welfare group when I was asked to foster a very pregnant feral cat until she had her kittens. Kira was one of the babies in that litter. We found homes for the other four kittens and spayed and released the mother. But I just had to keep Kira Kat. There was something about her that pleased me and even inspired me.

Kira Kat quickly adopted human attitudes. She never had any interest in going outside. As far as she was concerned, outside was for uncivilized animals, not people like her.

She loved to eat, she loved treats, she loved to be held. She would sleep on her back with her feet in the air and, back in the days when I had long hair, she would hunt pony tail holders and even steal them from my dresser. They'd end up in her food or water dishes where I am sure she ceremoniously "killed" her "prey."

If I become convinced Kira Kat is suffering or in pain, I will do what I have to do – end her life to avoid a prolonged, painful death. But in the absence of such evidence, I hesitate and continue to struggle. Watching her decline is excruciating.

My vet says, basically, as long as she's eating, she's not in pain. And Kira Kat is asking for food quite frequently each day.

Looking for additional resources, I found information on the HHHHHMM Quality of Life Scale. Though designed for cats with cancer, it works for any cat and can be applied to dogs too. It asks pet parents to evaluate the animal in seven different categories with 0 being the worst and 10 being the best. The categories are hurt, hunger, hydration, hygiene, happiness, mobility and more good days than bad.

A healthy animal should not be in pain, should be eating and drinking, be able to get around, feel happy and keep himself clean for a score of 70. A cat whose quality of life has sufficiently deteriorated to the point where euthanasia should be considered will score less than 35. Scoring is, of course, subjective.

Kira Kat scored a 40. She does not seem to be in pain. She eats well and she can still get around though her gait is choppy. She's even on good days versus bad days. All her days are basically the same. I also scored her average on happiness. Her lowest scores were on hygiene.

While I wouldn't say she is enjoying life like she used to, she often acknowledges my touch with a meow, as she always has. When I find her sleeping on the bed, I can crawl in beside her and put my arm around her. This elicits purrs and she will roll a bit on her back to express her contentment.

At such moments I know I have been right to wait. But then I see her sneezing and sniffling – she has been treated repeatedly for this to no avail – and I compare a photo of her in her prime to the way she looks now.

My heart breaks.

I truly hope she will die peacefully in her sleep – or, better yet, in my arms. Barring that, I pray for guidance and that when the time comes to play god that I will be sure it's the right thing to do.

Johanna S. Billings

editor

Whitehall-Coplay Press

Northampton Press

Catasauqua Press