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| John L. Hill |
Throughout my legal career, whenever I got bogged down in writing or research, I would turn my head to my dog and say, “Do you want to go for a walk outside?” The pet was always agreeable. Whatever pleasure that animal derived, I could calm down and carry on. I have almost continually had a dog. Within a year of my call to the bar, I adopted Skippy, a Samoyed/White Shepherd cross; then there was Lucy and Ethel, husky/collie crosses; and later there was Judge, a terrier crossbreed. Hedy, an English Cocker Spaniel, has been at my side for the last 14 years.
That is until June 18, 2024. When dogs age, the decline in their health happens rapidly. Earlier this year, we accepted her blindness and what has been diagnosed as “doggy dementia.” My wife and I
Hedy at home: Photo courtesy of the author
An appointment was made with our local animal hospital for 9:30 on the morning of the 18th. We were asked to accompany Hedy into a room where she sat on a table. I was asked to sign the consent for the process. (“I’m signing my little girl’s death warrant” was my instantaneous thought!) We continued petting her while a sedative was administered. We were asked to remain in the room with our pet while the relaxant took effect.
The veterinarian took her to another room, where a catheter was inserted in her left front paw. Hedy was then returned to us. This time, the vet took a syringe from her pocket and inserted the lethal drug into the catheter. My mind went straight away to the scene at the prison in Huntsville, Texas, and the injection given to Stanley Faulder, a Canadian on death row who had been convicted of killing a Texas oil baron’s wife. A meeting to delay the execution was arranged with then-governor George W. Bush and the head of the Texas Board of Parole. It was unsuccessful. Faulder was led into a small chamber, the drugs were injected, he coughed twice and silently passed away.
I commented to the veterinarian that this was like my experience with Faulder. The doctor did not pick up on my horror, and she commented that it was a humane and painless way to go. She then placed her stethoscope on Hedy’s chest, and the next words I heard were, “She’s gone.”
Did the American Psychiatric Association include that sense of loss in arriving at its statistics? When my mother, who suffered for 10 years with Alzheimer’s disease and was reduced from a loving, caring, intelligent woman to one confined to a bed, unable to walk, talk or know her family or surroundings, died, my emotion was of relief. Why should I shed tears for an animal when I did not for the person who gave me life?
Two events after the 18th put things in better perspective for me. The first was a complaint I received from a former client that I had referred to a very well-respected but elderly lawyer. His case had been dismissed because the lawyer had missed a limitation period. A check with the law society also revealed the lawyer had been administratively suspended but was later returned to practice. I suspected he had forgotten to pay his annual fees or file the necessary yearly returns. The lawyer was in his 70s. The law society does not require cognitive testing to remain in practice. Dementia can happen to anyone but more frequently when one ages. It can have disastrous results when a client needs a lawyer’s mind that functions appropriately. Has anyone ever suggested that this lawyer retire?
Later, I watched the American presidential debate. Joe Biden’s lapses and non-sequiturs were similar to the speech patterns of people I have encountered with dementia. The next day, political commentators, including the New York Times, suggested it was time for Biden to release his convention delegates and allow the Democratic party to select another, more youthful, nominee.
Whether it be a dog’s life, a successful law practice or the American presidency, sometimes the kindest thing to say is, “You’ve given us your best. But now it’s time to step aside.”
John L. Hill practised and taught prison law until his retirement. He holds a J.D. from Queen’s and an LL.M. in constitutional law from Osgoode Hall. He is also the author of Pine Box Parole: Terry Fitzsimmons and the Quest to End Solitary Confinement (Durvile & UpRoute Books). Contact him at johnlornehill@hotmail.com.
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