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我作为“生活变化”项目顾问在科罗拉多州立大学兽医教学医院工作。我们向由于疾病、事故或安乐死而失去宠物的人提供心理咨询。
我曾有过一个50多岁, 名叫邦妮的来访者。她驱车一个半小时前来医院, 想知道是否有医生能为她14岁的纯种黑卷毛狗尽份力。那狗叫卡桑德拉, 爱称卡西。它已经萎靡不振了一个星期左右, 有时还像是神志不清。
【听力原文】
Soul to Soul
I worked at the Colorado State University Veterinary Teaching Hospital as a counselor1） in the Changes Program. We help people deal with the experience of losing a pet, whether through illness, accident or euthanasia2）.
One time, I had a client named Bonnie, a woman in her mid-fifties. Bonnie had driven an hour and a half to see if the doctors at the hospital could do anything to help her fourteen-year-old black standard poodle, Cassandra, affectionately called Cassie. The dog had been lethargic3） for a week or so and seemed to be confused at times.
She had been told earlier that morning by neurologist Dr. Jane Bush that Cassie had a brain tumor4） that could take Cassie’s life at any time.
Bonnie was devastated5） to learn that her companion animal was so ill. That was when Bonnie was introduced to me. The Changes Program often helps people while they wrestled with the difficult decision of whether to euthanize a pet or let nature take its course.
Bonnie had graying, light-brown wavy hair that she pulled back into a large barrette. She had sparkling light blue eyes that immediately drew my attention, and there was a calmness about her that told me she was a person who thought things through, a woman who did not make hasty decisions.
For twenty years, Bonnie had been married to a man who mistreated her. Bonnie had tried many, many times to leave him, but she just couldn’t do it. Finally, when she turned forty-five years old, she found the courage to walk away. She and Cassie, who was four years old at the time, moved to Laramie, Wyoming, to heal the old hurts and begin a new life. Cassie loved her and needed her and, for Bonnie, the feeling was mutual. There were many rough times ahead, but Bonnie and Cassie got through them together.
Six years later, Bonnie met Hank, a man who loved her in a way that she had never been loved. They were married one year later. Their marriage was ripe with discussion, affection, simple routines and happiness. Bonnie was living the life for which she had always hoped.
One morning, Hank was preparing to leave for work at his tree-trimming6） service. As always, he and Bonnie embraced one another in the doorway of their home and acknowledged out loud how blessed they were to have each other.
Bonnie worked at home that day rather than going into her office, where she held a position as an office assistant. Late in the afternoon, her phone rang. When she picked it up, she heard the voice of the team leader who headed the search-and-rescue service for which Bonnie was a volunteer. Bonnie was often one of the first volunteers called when someone was in trouble.
That day, Margie told her a man had been electrocuted7） on a power line just two blocks from Bonnie’s house. Bonnie dropped everything, flew out of her house and jumped into her truck.
When Bonnie arrived at the house, she saw an image that would be engraved in her mind for the rest of her life. Her beloved Hank hung lifelessly from the branches of a tall cottonwood tree.
All of the training that Bonnie had received about safely helping someone who has been electrocuted left her. She wasn’t concerned about her own safety. She had to do everything she could to save Hank. She just had to get him down. She grabbed the ladder stowed in her truck, threw it up against the house and began climbing. Bonnie crawled onto the top of the roof and pulled Hank’s body out of the tree toward her. Miraculously, even though she touched his body, which was touching the power line, she was not electrocuted herself. She pulled Hank onto the brown shingles of the roof and cradled his head in the crook of her arm. She wailed as she looked at his ashen8） face. His eyes stared out into the bright blue Wyoming sky. He was dead. Gone. He could not be brought back to life. She knew to the core of her being that the life they shared was over.
In the four years that followed Hank’s death, Bonnie tried to put her life back together. She was up-and-down, but mostly down. She lived with the frustration of not having said good-bye, of not having the opportunity to said all of the things she wanted to say, of not being able to comfort him, soothe him, help him leave his life and move into the next. She wasn’t prepared for this kind of ending. It was not the way she wanted her best friend, her lover, her partner to die.
When Bonnie finished talking, we both sat in silence for a while. Finally said, “Would you like Cassie’s death to be different from Hank’s？I’m talking now, Bonnie, about euthanasia. With euthanasia, you won’t have to worry about coming home from work and finding Cassie dead, and you can ensure that she won’t die in pain. If we help Cassie die by euthanasia, you can be with her, hold her, talk to her and comfort her. You can peacefully send her on to the next life. The choice is up to you.
Bonnie’s eyes opened wide. Her shoulders relaxed and her face softened in relief.
“I just need control this time, ”she said. “I want this death to be different from Hank’s-for my girl. ”
The decision was made to euthanize Cassie that afternoon. I left the two of them alone, and Bonnie and Cassie spend the next few hours lying outside under the maple tree.
When it was time, Bonnie brought Cassie into the client comfort room, an area that those of us associated with The Changes Program had adapted to be more conducive9） to humane animal death and client grief.
The dog was lying down by Bonnie, who was on the floor on a soft pad. Bonnie began to pet and talk to her. “There you are, girl. You’re right here by Mom. Everything is okay. ”
The time for euthanasia arrived and Cassie was sleeping peacefully, her head resting on Bonnie’s stomach. She looked comfortable, very much at ease. Dr. Bush whispered, “May we begin the procedure？”And Bonnie nodded in affirmation.
“But first,”she said softly, “I would like to say a prayer. ”
She reached out to take our hands and we all reached out our hands to one another. Within this sacred circle, Bonnie softly prayed, “Dear Lord, thank you for giving me this beautiful dog for the past fourteen years. I know she was a gift from you. Today, as painful as it is, I know it is time to give her back. And, dear Lord, thank you for bringing these women to me. They have helped me beyond measure. I attribute their presence to you. Amen. ”
Through our tears, we whispered our own “amens”, all squeezing one another’s hands in support of the rightfulness of the moment.
And then, while Cassie continued to sleep peacefully on her caretaker’s belly, the doctor gave the dog the final injection. Cassie did not wake up. Through it all, she did not move. She just slipped out of this life into the next. It was quick, peaceful and painless, just as we had predicted. Immediately following Cassie’s passing, I made a clay impression of her front paw. I handed the paw print to Bonnie and she held it tenderly against her cheek. We all sat quietly until Bonnie broke the silence, saying, “If my husband had to die, I wish he could have died this way. ”
Six weeks later, I received a letter from Bonnie. She had scattered Cassie’s remains on the same mountain where Hank’s were scattered. Now her two best friends were together again. She said somehow Cassie’s death, and especially the way in which she had died, had helped her resolve the death of her husband.
“Cassie’s death was a bridge to Hank for me,”she wrote. “Through her death, I let him know that if I had had the choice when he died, I would have had the courage and the dedication necessary to be with him when he died, too. I needed him to know that and I hadn’t been able to find a way. Cassie provided the way. I think that is the reason for and the meaning of her death. Somehow, she knew she could re connect us, soul to soul. ”
Eight months later, Bonnie traveled again from Wyoming to the Veterinary Teaching Hospital. This time, she brought her new, healthy puppy Clyde---a nine-month-old Lab mix, full of life and love. Bonnie was beginning a gain.
□by Carolyn Butler and Laurel Lagoni
