The right to dignity.

Dignity, the right to live with it, and without torture, cruelty, inhuman or degrading treatment.

Article 1 and 4 of the UDHR may state the above in relation to humans, but today I had to apply these to the beautiful soul you see in the photo above.

Seeing in him a pet shop in Egypt 10 years ago when he was just a few weeks old, I knew I could not leave him there. Later that afternoon, wrapped in a blanket he was on his way to his new home to join my family.

It had taken me 12 years to convince my now ex husband to have a dog, and here we were, parents to this beautiful Lhasa Apso. I felt my family was now complete, and my two sons were so excited.

Just a few months later, he contracted Parvo thanks to the vet who gave him his vaccinations. Taking him to another vet we were given the prognosis that 90% of dogs who get parvo died. He suggested we leave him in the vets overnight and come back in the morning.

"I don't think so. He is coming home with me, and you are going to give me all the meds and equipment needed to administer the fluids he needs, and if he dies, he dies at home surrouded by those who love him, not in some cold cage alone in a sterile surgery".

So an hour later after being trained on how to change fluids, change the catheter and informed on what to expect, Kelt was heading home with the four of us.

We nursed him through the night, taking it in turns to stay awake and hold him, making sure someone was cuddling him and reassuring him all night long. Eventually his strength increased and he beat Parvo.

Fast forward a year and he is on a flight with me out of Egypt, flying into Amsterdam before boarding a ferry to the UK. If you had seen him experiencing the sights, sounds and smells of Amsterdam after his first year of being walked in the streets of Egypt, you would be smiling away to yourself.

He loved being on the ferry crossing the Channel as much as I did. He even came sailing with me around the channel islands on The Excelsior tall ship - Captain Kelt he became known as from that moment on.

With roadtrips across the UK and Europe, this dog has been to more countries and on more adventures than many adults, always by my side.

Always by my side, without fail. Through the death of my father-in-law whom I was incredibly close to, through my divorce, and through the most traumatic time in my life The Scotland Saga.

The plan was for him to fly to the States to join me on my US book tour, and then sail with me on my boat the rest of the way around the world. But today, I felt like the bottom of my world fell out when the vet confirmed he has a large tumour in his colon so deep, even to operate would more than likely kill him.

And where am I? On the other side of the world, unable to hold him in my arms and nurse him through these final hours and days. Knowing he is with my two sons and ex-husband who adore him makes the pain easier, for me. The pain killers are doing their job for him.

Looking into his eyes via the video call and talking with him, I knew he could hear me, but being so far away, I feel helpless. And the tears just won't stop falling. I am never going to get to hold him in my arms again, bath him and blow dry his fur whilst he sits there proudly enjoying the warm air.

I am not going to fall asleep with him snoring underneath my bed, snuggled up in the suitcase he made his bed. And I am not going to get to walk him, and sail with him ever again.

And that is the thing about grief, it is our grief, the ones left behind. The grief that keeps us keeping people alive, often without dignity, in pain, torturing them for the sake of holding onto them for another day, another possibilty of them 'pulling through'.

Kept alive for doctors and pharmaceutical companies to keep testing drugs after drugs, treatments after treatments all in pursuit of medical experimentation and research data.

And yet when it comes to our pets, euthanasia is the kindest option and the one we go for so the suffering ends, and we don't prolong the suffering; we even put horses to sleep who go lame and greyhounds who can't win the next big prize for us at the races.

Why then do we keep family members alive via machines, loved ones who cannot breathe for themselves, whose hearts can't beat without a machine, who urinate and defecate into tubes and who are brain dead - just so we can keep them alive to prevent us from experiencing grief over the loss of a loved one?

Just because we are too afraid to let them go? Or because the next drug might work? Or the next revolutionary treatment might make them come back alive - even though they would still have to go to the toilet through tubes, be fed through tubes and lose all sense of dignity and self respect?

Maybe we choose to hang on, prolonging the inevitable because our religion tells us not to take a life. Maybe there are other reasons, but when we let go of our grief, our sadness and loss, asking ourselves is this scientific experiment of our loved ones, kept alive by machines and drugs really dignified?

Isn't it cruel to mask the pain and suffering of our loved ones with pharmaceutical after pharmaceutical intervention? Just because of some distorted view of love and devotion, and obligation to a religion which states only God can be the giver or taker of life?

Surely keeping someone alive by machine and medication is placing ourselves on the same level as God by giving life when God would have taken it?

And isn't that the biggest sin of all in all religions, placing ourselves on the same level as God?

Even when it comes to judging others? God is our only judge, so who are we to judge others?

My grief, your grief is simply that, our grief, our suffering. My guilt at not being there with my baby in his last hours, after all the time he has been by my side through the tough times, is playing havoc with my ego because I am not there with him in person.

But what can I do? Even if I was to fly back to the UK, I probably wouldn't get there in time, and due to having to quarantine for 14 days, I still wouldn't get to be there in time.

So, I have to process this all from a distance, calling my sons tomorrow and be with them, helping each other through this process.

To keep him alive would be cruel, to mask his pain with painkillers, not knowing whether we are giving him enough or too much, is cruel. The discomfort he has walking, the not eating and the exhaustion he is so obviously experiencing, isn't dignified. It's inhuman to keep him alive, degrading and a punishment in many ways for his years of loyalty and love.

Him not being able to play with his 'wife', my other fur baby, or run free around the parks peeing up every tree there is, or trying to hump every dog in the place, is also cruel. He has lived a full and happy life, is even bi-lingual! And now it is his time to go on his next adventure, wherever that is.

He may not be human, and he may be a domesticated animal, and these emotions may be human ones I am feeling, and yes he is 'just an animal' to those who do not understand the bond between animals and humans, but if we apply the same rules to humans as we apply to our pets, our fur babies, then surely euthanasia is the kindest option for those we love who are kept alive purely by machines and medications?

#euthanasia #UDHR #humanrightseveryday #humanrightswatch #humanrights #animalrights #furbabymama #lhasaapso #grief #ethics