A family member had to put down a beloved pet today.
This occurred within the usual circumstances for our society-at-large: irreparably sick and suffering animal is brought to the vet, who agrees/diagnoses said pet's irreparablness and obvious suffering... and informs/confirms to the pet owner that "It's the best thing to do."
For a large fee, of course.

I dealt with a pet hospice situation a little over three years ago while saying 'The Long Goodbye' to my beloved Scooter.
I knew that our days would eventually end, and I had sworn in my heart that I was going to protect and defend her from all unnecessary discomfort.
"Unnecessary Discomfort": I took these words literally. They included, among the final needle prick... a sense of fright.

Fright: It's different for prey animals, such as cats, or any other animal really...
Cats (or those suckie, lower beings... much, much lower, that we call 'Dogs'...) live a life that is fear based. (Dogs also live a life that is 'suck-ass' based: just wanting to please... like the suck asses they are.)
Survival is their drive, before all else.

So yeah... Scooter would never see a vet, or a needle, that was not contributive to her overall health, happiness and well being.
I'm loyal like that.

In her final days I had already set in my mind that her end would come, if necessary, at my own hand.
There would not be the final morning of fear and trepidation that would accompany a trip to the vet:
When she would be placed into a scarrier...
The ride in the car...
Arrival at a strange place where all the comfort smells were absent...
To be set upon a cold, stainless steel table...
Prodded and poked by a hand she knew not...
The final prick of the needle...
Into her fearfully scared little body...

NO! Fucking way...

My girl would know only love, My love, in her final moments.
She earned it, was entitled to it, and I was duty-bound to deliver it.

As it came... her end was peacefully 'in my arms' so to speak.
She felt my hands as I stroked her fur...
I whispered to her...
Comforted her as she took her final breaths...

Sure, were she in any obvious pain, I was prepared for that, too, and like I said, felt duty-bound to 'do her right' should it be.
I had a loaded .22... at the ready.
In a moments notice, she'd have gotten the shot.
I was prepared for it, if need be, should she start to show any obvious pain or discomfort.

People ask: you would have killed your own cat? Where is the love in that?
They just don't understand.

To them I ask:
Where is the love in the alternative?
In that alternative, I do see not love, but weakness.
A weakness that causes pain to those who deserve better.
Where is the love in that?