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“I’m writing you tonight because I hope you can help me,” the email reads.
And so begins another unusual plea for help.
“My cat has a tumor and the vet says I must amputate his leg to save his life.”
Sniff around for information on three-legged cats, and apparently you will come across me. It’s a strange thing to be known for, but I’m on my third three-legger and I’ve shared stories and photos of them online, on TV and here in this column.
So, I get why folks reach out to me, yet on one level I’m not able to help them. I’ve never had to make the gut-wrenching decision to amputate. Each one of my three-legged cats has somehow found his or her way to me with a leg already gone. I can only imagine how hard it is to make that leap.
But a bigger question is at play here — one that all of us pet lovers will one day face, no matter how many limbs are attached to your beloved furball. How do you know how far to go medically to help your favorite creature in the world?
That’s a dilemma and agonizing pain that I surely do know. I can’t believe it’s been just about two years since my beloved Tripod passed on. We had more than 17 years together. We met when I was a local news reporter in Phoenix. He moved with me to Atlanta for my big break at CNN and was by my side and on my lap as I launched DarynKagan.com. He became friends with my friends, especially the ones who swore they didn’t like cats. He sniffed out potential beaus, sizing them up quickly.
Along the way, Pod had his share of medical challenges, none of which seemed to have anything to do with his missing leg. There were a couple rounds of diabetes and fading kidneys. He was such a trooper throughout all of it. I never really contemplated saying goodbye.
In the last months of his life, my vet gave me some of the best advice I’d ever heard. “Make sure you are doing for your pet,” he advised, “and not to your pet.”
Doing “for” meant extending a life well-lived. Doing “to” meant going too far. I had watched a good friend go too far with his dog simply because he could not let go.
I pass that guidance on now to those who look to me for advice. I also assure them, as I once was assured, that they will know when it’s time to let go.
I found that impossible to believe until that morning I woke up, saw my sweet boy struggling and immediately knew. I knew because my cat seemed to tell me, “It’s time, I need to go.”
For any pet owner struggling with a difficult decision, I can promise you’ll never forget your bond or even what it feels like to hold them in your arms. They leave, but the paw prints on your heart never do.
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