It wasn’t the best circumstance, but it just happened that way. It was interesting, humbling, dark (literally), and quite revealing about the nature of humanity and our understanding of life and death. As we know it, death is the same throughout the animal world. We all share it, and we will all meet this end eventually. Fortunately, though, and maybe this is what separates us from other animals in the animal kingdom, some of us can visit that ethereal place, the void, the serene darkness (or whatever we want to call it) and come back to tell the tale. To actually describe what dying is like – crossing the river Styx, opening the gates of Heaven, breaking the endless cycle of attachment and suffering – some of us can, in vivid detail.

Here’s the story:

I was out on the water. On a boat with some friends in my early twenties. Thought nothing of the day. It was sunny, the water was clear, the air crisp. Smack! My vision gone. Sparkles clouding my vision. A deep red hue obscuring my vision. No noise. No sensation. Complete darkness. I was falling through a void. Lifeless. Eventually it stopped and I was floating, peacefully. No worry or doubt in the world. Complete relaxation. Contentment. Pure bliss. And then a voice. The voice was not separate from me, it was me, and I was the voice. It was all knowing, at least I felt it was. It’s difficult to describe. But it asked me a question. It asked me if I had hurt anyone. I didn’t hurt anyone. It kept asking me that same question until I realized I had been hurting myself. I accepted that, and in accepting that, zoom! I was sucked back up through the void. Ambulance sirens, heart monitor beeping, commotion. I learned I was struck by a boat, suffered a massive seizure, and (almost) life-ending brain hemorrhage.

Then I, the emergency veterinarian, pushed the propofol and followed it with euthasol. The canine patient dying of metastatic hemangiosarcoma.

I wonder what the dog was experiencing and if it was anything like his owner’s story?