A Minute's Range

The clock in the room started to chime, filling the room with its harmonic song. The tune disrupts the somber, heavy silence of the veterinary exam room. A mature woman with dark hair secured in a sloppy, rushed ponytail and dull, haphazard clothing tenderly petting a tortoiseshell cat lying dolefully on a fluffy blanket on the exam table. These two were no strangers here but relatively frequent guests. The patient had been living with Feline Epilepsy with remarkably high spirits and relative success until recently. The medications were becoming increasingly less effective, and the seizures considerably more violent and traumatic for both of them. The woman was caressing the plush fur of her faithful feline’s back as salty rivers flowed freely. Her free hand shifted to grasp its paw gently, brushing her thumb rhythmically over the top. Even in its sedated state, they purred softly, its ears twitching to the shaky reassurance of a familiar cracking voice. A female veterinarian stood at the end of the table where she had prepared the necessary materials with a dismal expression. The smell of a fragrant candle only adds to the impossibly heavy atmosphere. Its fragrance is floral and calming in a moment that is anything but as the flame flickers and burns steadily. The most difficult decision that every pet parent dreaded had come. Salty rivers flow more as the vet moves to the back of the pet. A part of her job that she wishes was not inevitable.

“You have been the bestest friend anyone could ask for, and always happy and enjoying life. I’ve noticed your light has dimmed, and your energy has waned. I’m sending you to a place free of illness and pain but full of toys, happiness, and endless fun..” The cracking voice cooed with the chimes of the room clock’s song. The woman nodded to the vet in agony, knowing that the longer the wait, the more impossible it would be. The vet looked with knowing eyes and quickly acted on the clear signal. The vet gently grabbed the poor thing’s limb, already had an IV in, and prepared to insert the syringe. With one last glance at the downcast pair, her heart broke more. She knows that each time she does this, it's in the best interest of the patient, but she also suffers the family's sorrow. With a steadying breath, she injects the milky fluid, fulfilling the owner's tearful promise of ending the pain and healing the illness with the final treatment. She couldn’t help the wayward tears occasionally spilling from her eyes. One breath, two breaths, three breaths, four. Before the song can end, there are breaths no more. Soft cries swiftly turned into woeful sobs as the woman scooped up her friend, cradling it to her, rocking to and fro. It is almost symbolic of the clock’s ill-fatted tune completing its coda just after that of a life’s end. Hard to believe how much can happen and just what can change. Too often, we take for granted a minute’s range.