Euthanasia poems 

The Last Battle
If it should be that I grow frail and weak

And pain should keep me from my sleep,

Then will you do what must be done

For this - the last battle- can't be won.

You will be sad I understand,

But don't let grief then stay your hand,

For on this day, more than the rest,

Your love and friendship must stand the test.

We have had so many happy years,

You wouldn't want me to suffer so.

When the time comes, please, let me go.

Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,

Only, stay with me until the end
And hold me firm and speak to me

Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.

Although my tail its last has waved,

From pain and suffering I have been saved.

Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;

We've been so close - we two - these years,

Don't let your heart hold any tears.

**** *** *** 

This next poem was written by a dear client after her precious cat Stanley was put to sleep

 

Laying outside imbibing birdsong

is not out of the ordinary, but on this day we wait.

Needle in shaved paw sends him fifty fathoms deep

to twitch away in peaceful kitten sleep

and slink burning bright through grass and sun,

where loving is one

of life's sprung traps.

 

Smaller but undiminished

his odd call and purr

remain like wet paw prints,

as happy sounds in the air.

I may catch him sometimes

through half closed eye as he lies curled

in a sun-puddle in the garden, back from sea.

 

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