How do you commemorate the human-animal bond when Batman is your patient?

Alexandra Yaksich, B.Sc, AHT

Euthanasia is an inevitable part of our job. Personally, I think it’s what makes us vet-med types so strong. Sometimes our hearts are heavy, other times they are lifted because we have a unique privilege to end suffering. Sometimes I wish we could do more to celebrate and commemorate that special human-animal bond we see.

In some cases, we put an end to the superheroes of species. I want to tell you a story about our patient, Batman.

One of my clients was about to lose her dog. He was very sick, and it had been a long journey through palliative care. The moment had finally come.

It seems way too formal to call her a client. Let’s call her CW. She was a neighbor, a member of our community, and one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life.

Over the years, we got to know each other very well. Let’s just say her life had not been the easiest… but she was always kind.

Her dog was her life. Her dog, an all-black terrier mix, and appropriately named Batman, saved her life. Many times, in many ways.

Batman was a true vigilante. He was raised in the streets, taken in by a family who did not have the means to care for him, and ended up being chained to a tree all day, every day, for months.

Shelters had continuously tried to entice the owners to give him up, to offer him a better life, but they resisted. “Being outside on a tree is better than inside in a cage” was one of their reasons. As the weather got colder, and more people started knocking on their door about the dog, the family decided it wasn’t worth the hassle of the neighbours and finally gave the dog to a shelter.

When Batman arrived at the shelter, he seemed both excited and terrified at the same time. He was certainly familiar with the dark side… so much so that it was like he forgot how to even play.

As he got familiar with the others, he slowly started to come out of his shell and the attendants noticed something unique about him. He was always ‘policing’ the others. If there was foul play going on with the dogs, he would separate them. If one of the dogs took another’s toy, it was Batman to the rescue, and he would carefully take the toy and place it righteously in front of the original toy-bearer. He was justice.

Because of his unique and peculiar nature, the attendants began training him on a variety of tasks, the usual sit, lay down, stay, etc. He learned this so fast it made their heads spin! He really was something, and what an amazing turnaround from the shy and meek dog that originally came in. They started going further with his training and decided his best option for a human would be someone who would have the capacity to handle his intelligence.

In walks CW. The shelter knew her as she had been coming there for years to volunteer. She loved animals, and she loved helping her community.

Despite her unique personal history, and everything she had gone through in life, the staff at the shelter were always amazed at how she kept showing up despite her life’s circumstances. While I won’t get into much of her personal history, the year before, her husband had passed away. This year, she was diagnosed with adult epilepsy. Cause unknown.

She was looking around the shelter for something that could mirror her. An intelligent dog, a dog who likes training, and a reliable dog. She went to the shelter specifically during play hours so she could see all the dogs in all their glory, outside, playing.

“Oh my gosh, who is that?” CW said in a fit of emotion the attendants hadn’t seen from her in a long time.

She was looking at Batman.

“That’s a young fellow who recently came to us.” the attendant said. “He’s one of the most intelligent dogs I’ve ever met”.

As soon as Batman saw CW, toy-in-mouth, he runs up to her and places the toy gently at her feet.

It was fate.

They were meant to be.

CW explains to the shelter she will prepare the house for Batman, and that she intends to train him as a seizure dog to help her prepare ahead of time for the inevitable and unbeknownst neurological party that has the capacity to briefly render her catatonic. 

The following week, treats-ready, toys-present, and doggy-proofed, the house is ready to go. CW welcomes Batman to his new forever home.

The years that followed were wonderful. They trained together, walked together, watched movies together. He learned to become so acutely aware of her seizures that not only would he lay down around her if it was about to occur (so he could break her fall), he learned to predict them. By following his cues, she knew she had a few minutes to take her medication and call a friend. And she was always comforted to know that Batman was there, and he would know what to do in case of emergency.

Their bond was powerful.

I wish I could tell you more of their wild stories. I wish I had the time to put it in a book. This is a perfect example of that beautiful human-animal bond that we see so often in our profession

The day of, we knew this was going to be a hard one. I prepped the room, made it as comfy and personalized as possible. We had known Batman a long time, so we already had photos of him in the clinic. I put some in the room for CW.

From my EOL practical classes, there were a few lovely tricks I learned: getting battery candles to put in the room, making it personalized and as comfortable looking and feeling as possible, as well as setting up the supplies in a non-sterile kind of a way.

We perform euthanasia’s all the time, and I have always been a firm believer that each one should be treated like it’s the most important one you’ll ever do. Because they all are. Because this is the last moment your client and patient will have together, and your client will remember this for the rest of their life.

It couldn’t have possibly been made more special for CW and Batman. The euthanasia went as smoothly as they can go. Naturally, we all cried. We were all in mourning not only of Batman himself, but a mourning of their special bond, the bond that reminds us of why we are in this field in the first place.

I am so glad we had Euthabag at the time of their visit, so when the moment came, Batman had a beautiful resting space. Labelled specially for him, and where he could bring his favorite toy.

It’s nice to see the industry evolving, as before Euthabag was a normal standard, we would put them… in garbage bags… I for one simply can’t do that anymore. It was almost a relief to see CW do up the zipper to ensure Batman’s safety across the rainbow bridge. It offered her a symbolic closure. One that she very much needed. One that we needed as well.

Perhaps we don’t always know about the intricate details of the human-animal bond with our clients and patients. But when you do get to know them, it sure does strike your heart strings. After that euthanasia, I have looked at all of my future euthanasia’s as if they were Batman, and their human was CW. All of our patients are worth that reverence, and when we treat euthanasia’s that way, it makes me proud to have played my part in it. To give them the best ending they deserve.