The Quality Of Mercy

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.


The bard was right. No one can force someone else to be merciful. The giving has to come on its own. And ironically if a mild word like mercy is suffixed with a more brutal one like killing, the meaning takes on a potent shade. Then of course, it droppeth not as the gentle command from heaven but becomes a desperate act that has to be administered right here on earth.

Like many, I too believe that life and death are only in the hands of God. Any justification and reasoning whatsoever, therefore does not make sense to me. But often even skeptics turn into believers. And the reason for the sudden change is nothing but a helpless deal that life suddenly decides to dole out.

Now let me tell you about my Golden experience. And my not so golden decision- something I never thought I was capable of ever taking. It’s not like I have never had pets before. But my relationship with Champagne was a unique one. Even though he arrived as only a gift for Masha (my daughter)on her birthday, it coincided with the initial letting go of my son Misha to a residential school in Chennai. Therefore while the Golden gift was just a furry ball for my daughter to play with, for the mother in me Champagne became an instant emotional crutch to lean on. Four years later when Masha also left for college, the support only became solider.

Thus began my emotional roller coaster ride that lasted fourteen long years. While the initial ones were more of highs and less of lows, after the tenth birthday, I knew that the rest were bonus years. Hence the next four became a drug that worked its magic only because I began milking life to its fullest. So during Champagne’s 11th and 12th year, apart from viewing his every breath as a potential last breath, I also desperately tried to connect with the painful sights and the aching smells of old age. The 13th and the 14th year I spent frantically trying to mend the inevitable end.

Euthanasia being as legal as it can get for ailing pets, the final year also proved to be a gentle test for my decision making skills. Maybe I was being stubbornly selfish in trying to prolong our ‘golden’ moments together. Or maybe I just did not like to play God. I always hoped that nature would take its course and I would be exempted from dirtying my hands with any of man’s legal but mercifully brutal executions. And after two crucial stages of surgery and recuperation and two more of mending the ending, I began feeling that perhaps I did possess some special healing powers. I vowed that my goodbye to Champagne would come at its own pace. And even if I was forced by others to look at any lethal option, I was absolutely certain that my heart would never, ever change its mind.

But life can be cruel. And in the guise of clemency it can sometimes force you to pass a judgment you never imagined yourself capable of. Just like the first step of grieving is denial, the first step of letting go is also immediate denial. The acceptance comes gradually. When you lovingly stroke your once upon a time 34kg pet only to come in contact with his entire skeletal system. It comes when his kidneys fail and one by one his organs start to give way. It comes when there is internal bleeding and his greedy body starts to reject even saline. It comes when his voracious bark turns into a wailing whimper. It comes when all the golden warmth is suddenly replaced by a cold and a lifeless gaze.

And then you know. That it is time to shed all your wise philosophies about karma. It is time to discard all your logical ethical beliefs and embrace mortality as a stepping stone to immortality. Then you know. That it is time to finally end all the pain. It is time to help your beloved pet finally cross the rainbows bridge.

When you kill someone you are not just killing them, you are snuffing out all that they can become. But euthanasia is like lighting a candle of dignity so that the darkness of suffering is eliminated for your loved one. It is like finally conceding to the fact that when all hope is lost and you do have a choice, it is better to let your loved ones rest in peace. After all, a body can never suffer in sweet repose. Especially when there is a powerful Someone to watch over it.

So rest in peace, my Champoo jaan. The quality of mercy may be twice blest but the quality of mercy killing definitely is not. It only blesses him that takes. So you are the blessed one. I’m not sure if God approves of my act. In fact I’m not even sure if you approve of it either. But I’d like to interpret the feeble whines of your last night on earth as a desperate signal to assist me in agreeing to sing the final lullaby. And your contented relaxed expression (almost like as if you were smiling), as you breathed your last on my lap, I take it as a sigh of relief.