My cat died under general anaesthetic

My cat, Charlie (8 years old), has just passed away under general anaesthetic during a procedure that was described to me as routine (cleaning an abscess). Not once did the vet warn me about the risks; he only told me how much it would cost!! I so regret trusting this vet. I should have gone for a second opinion to see if there was any other way to treat the abscess...

Hello everyone. Reading your posts, even if it doesn't bring comfort in itself, makes me feel less alone, less misunderstood in my grief. I lost my Tina last Monday, exactly one week ago. She was 16 and a half, with kidney disease, but she was stable. She had her issues, things were starting to go a bit wrong... but in the end, she was holding on. I had to take her in because she was struggling, to a local vet near my house... one I hadn't been seeing much because I didn’t really trust her anymore. My cat hated her, and she was unable to do a blood test without sedating her, whereas other vets managed just fine. As a result, she had so many unnecessary anaesthetics throughout her life. Since her last kidney flare-up, she’d been followed by a specialist hospital... but their prices are absolutely staggering, so I couldn’t take her there for everything. I’d go there for the major check-ups and use the local vet for smaller issues. On Friday, 28th December 2024, I took Tina to the local vet for a blood test, and as usual, she put her under to take the sample. The results were okay, actually quite encouraging and stable. She decided Tina must have cystitis (seemingly plucked out of thin air), and I left with some anti-spasmodic meds for a cat that hadn't really been eating well for three weeks. Once she'd come round from the anaesthetic, I could tell Tina was totally lost and disoriented. She meowed all evening. She was searching for something, I don't know what, all over the house. Clearly, something was wrong, and I could feel that the sedation had left her in a worse state than before. I called the out-of-hours vets, I moved heaven and earth, but everyone told me it couldn't be that, that it was the weekend, and that I’d have to go to the emergency vet in a town further away, or to her usual specialist. Knowing that at her specialist clinic, I’d already spoken to her regular vet who suspected a urinary tract infection or pancreatitis, and recommended bloods or an ultrasound. She warned me that an emergency admission like that would have to go through their ER and would cost around £850 or more! My heart was bleeding... I felt like I had to choose between cutting off my own arm or saving my cat. The weekend passed but Tina still wouldn't eat. She seemed lost and was crying everywhere, right up until Sunday morning. I called everywhere I could to find info, help—anything for effective care that would still allow me to afford food for the rest of the month. In the end, I decided to take her to the specialist hospital anyway, since the prices at these referral centres are all the same and I didn't trust anyone else given my cat's conditions. The initial exam on arrival was good. The vet was reassuring. The next morning, before the ultrasound, it was the same. The vet reassured me, saying Tina was in good general health. But Tina moved during the ultrasound. So they sedated her; she went into respiratory arrest, and her heart never started again. I had mentioned twice that Tina had been sedated recently and that I felt she'd reacted badly to it the previous Friday (three days before, for God's sake, on a cat who was nearly 17!). But because I was lost and exhausted myself—this wasn't my first emergency with Tina—I said it, but I didn't push hard enough, and they didn't listen enough. Like the person who posted above about their 10-year-old cat, I was convinced I’d be bringing her home in two days after the tests and being about £1,100 poorer. Instead, I put Tina back in her carrier after a final cuddle, but without the usual care I would normally take... she spent the last 24 hours of her life in a cage in a cold, impersonal clinic, without me. And she passed away in the hands of strangers. That thought paralyses me. It makes me feel sick. I went straight away to collect Tina’s body and brought her home. I was able to hold a wake for her. I gave her some of her things, lit candles, and my parents came to say goodbye. The next day, my dad and I dug a grave; I took her for one last walk around the garden and buried her in her final resting place. I planted a camellia, a hellebore, and some cyclamens, and made a heart-shaped grave with stones. I visit her every day now. I find myself alone in a house that feels completely empty. Tina was part of my life for 16 years. My whole adult life. She lived with me in Brazil, Corsica, and Switzerland. She was my home, my anchor, my refuge. I knew her time would come, perhaps sooner than expected, but I’d imagined it happening in very different circumstances... I never thought she’d go like that, without me... not like that. I’ve been wandering aimlessly since. I cry and I wander. I feel like an orphan and so disoriented. I’ve decided to try a pet psychic... I’ve had two contacts... I don’t know what will come of it... and I mostly regret not doing it sooner, to ask her what she needed. I’m sharing my story and my pain here like the rest of you... because I don't think many people can truly understand this pain. It’s a heartbreak that goes to the very depths of your soul, because our animals are our life partners and travel companions. They become part of our identity. We owe them so much. To my Tina, whom I loved so much.

Hello Meemaw, First of all, my heart goes out to you; reading your post has brought tears to my eyes. I lost my own little darling at the age of 15—it's nothing like your story, which must be so traumatic to go through, but I know what you’re feeling. I felt and still feel that pain inside me, that terrible emptiness; not being able to see or hear our baby anymore drove me nearly out of my mind for almost four months. My story isn’t yours, but the loss of a loved one is the same; the heartache is there and I truly understand, especially since your little sweetheart passed away without you being able to be by their side. That is just heartbreaking. My baby had been poorly for two years and we were always back and forth to the vet. That Sunday, he was doing really badly and could hardly breathe. I made the decision to take him to an out-of-hours vet quite a way from my house, even though I knew he got stressed in the car, and unfortunately, exactly what I’d been dreading happened. He had a cardiac arrest just two minutes away from the clinic. It was horrific; my whole world just fell apart. My darling was on the back seat with his eyes open and his little head to the side, and me... there I was, just sobbing. Back then, and even now, it feels impossible that he’s gone; I miss him so much. My grief was inconsolable, and reading your words, I understand you so much.

My cat was two and a half years old and passed away on the 30th of September. When he was only about six weeks old, he suffered a head injury that nearly cost him his life. He pulled through. Then, in September, when he was 18 months old, we discovered he had kidney issues. The vet (it was my usual vet, the one who always looked after him) told me that since he was young, the problem would likely flare up again, but that we could save him for now and it was nothing "too serious". A year later, on the 30th of September... My cat’s renal problems came back, so I took him to the vet. I expected to see the one who usually treats him, but instead, a new vet took over. He wasn't from here and had only just arrived at the practice. He took charge of my cat and looked at his old records (including his weight from a whole year ago). He told me it was nothing serious, that it was just like last time, and said he’d let me know when I could come and collect him. This cat was my whole life. I’d had him since he was four weeks old; I "raised" him and basically acted as his mother. The vet then told me, "Stay with him, I’m just going to get a sedative." At the time, I didn't understand why he needed a sedative. The cat was very stable, and the first time I’d brought him in a year prior, his usual vet hadn't used one. It didn't make any sense to me. He gave him the sedative (by injection...). The cat started to drift off and I didn't understand why. We then had to leave. After that, he put him under anaesthesia, but he never weighed the cat. His usual vet always weighed him and everything, but this one didn’t. You have to understand that my cat didn't weigh the same as he used to. Rio had lost weight over that year, so if he gave him too high a dose of the sedative plus the anaesthesia, I don't know if that’s risky... Actually, I’m sure it is, because a few minutes later—just enough time for us to get back to my nan's house, which is right next door to the surgery—the vet came knocking. He said, "I am so sorry, truly sorry, but the cat didn't make it. He had a cardiac arrest. I tried to resuscitate him but it was impossible. I don't understand why or what happened, I am so sorry." The vet did nothing but apologise, repeating over and over how sorry he was and that he really didn't know what had happened. In truth, neither he (at least according to what he told us) nor we know what actually happened. I’ve always suspected that a sedative plus anaesthesia without weighing the cat first could be fatal. What’s more, the sedative doesn't even appear on the bill. And when we mention that a sedative was used, they tell us no, it wasn't. Yet there were three witnesses that day—me, my mum, and my nan. All three of us heard him say it and saw him do it right in front of us. I even have a photo of the cat before the sedative and then after... in the first one he looks wide awake, and in the second, he’s starting to go under, with his ears drooping down. That was the day our little Rio left us. It was probably due to medical error. I blame myself for taking him to that vet. I really thought I’d be seeing his usual doctor who had always looked after him, but no—that day I got someone who had just arrived and was at the surgery alone. He dealt with my cat all by himself, so there’s no proof of the sedative given by injection since it’s not written on the bill or anywhere else.

I completely understand your anger; it’s totally justified. We trust our vet, which is only natural, so finding out they haven't done their job properly—and WORSE, killed our beloved pet through a lack of knowledge—is just horrific. I’m with you all the way; it honestly makes you see red when people are that incompetent. My heart goes out to you.

I have serious doubts about the quality of the monitoring and whether the timings in the report are actually true. Because if they’d really noticed the cat had stopped breathing at the end of the biopsy, they should have reacted much faster. I’m honestly wondering if they only realised she was dead when they tried to wake her up. Otherwise, she would have responded to the resuscitation drugs. Apnoea is a common complication under anaesthesia and is supposed to be manageable IF IT'S NOTICED IN TIME. But here, it looks like there was absolutely no monitoring of vital signs. I don't understand how they can let a junior carry out anaesthetics when they aren't even capable of seeing that an animal has stopped breathing during a procedure. Plus, we have no idea what dose was actually given because they've listed it per kg, rather than the actual amount administered (maybe a mistake with the cat’s weight?). Basically, my cat was perfectly healthy and died from suffocation when it was completely avoidable. The report also mentions "LIGHT anaesthesia", which isn't even a thing. A GA is a GA, and if it’s light, the respiratory reflex is supposed to be fine. So either they overdosed her by accident or she had a bad reaction, but that should have been fixable since they have all the reversal agents right there. My personal opinion is that they just didn't monitor anything and let her suffocate, only to realise too late that she wasn't waking up. Basically, we ended up with someone completely incompetent working in a clinic that is trigger-happy with sedation and anaesthesia. I feel horribly guilty for trusting them and I'm so angry that I lost my cat because someone forgot to check she was breathing. She was in perfect health when I brought her in; they just let her suffocate. Her lungs and heart were perfectly fine, but obviously if you stop breathing for a certain amount of time, the heart stops. Honestly, I’m feeling murderous right now. This wasn't an accident; it was straight-up negligence (at the very least, a failure in monitoring). It's hard to contain the anger when faced with such a stupid, avoidable death, and the worst part is they all just protect each other. I'm livid and I miss my cat more than ever. I’m just gutted. All that for a little 3cm lump that was probably nothing.

Hello, I’m getting back to you with a bit of an update on the situation. After speaking with the vet and getting hold of the procedure report, several things have come to light. The vet lied to us through and through. Firstly, contrary to what we were initially told, Mimi didn't die during the induction of the anaesthesia, but during maintenance. To start with, the vet who operated (a junior vet with 3 years’ experience) wasn’t the same one who did the initial consultation, so there was probably a breakdown in communication regarding the nature of the procedure. The one who saw us the first time hadn't mentioned anaesthesia, just "a tiny needle", which actually turned out to be a biopsy, so not that tiny after all. Next, we were told Mimi died during induction and that no tests could be carried out, which is false. It turns out the biopsy was actually performed, but the sample was binned without consulting us, even though the report claims we refused to send it to the lab after a discussion with them—which is a total lie. There was no discussion and we weren’t asked anything (or if they did ask at the same time they were telling us the cat had died, it really wasn’t the right time and it just didn't register, I don’t know). Then we found out that a post-mortem X-ray was taken, and it shows a healthy heart and lungs. Finally, the report clearly states that Mimi died at the end of the biopsy, so not during induction but during maintenance. It also shows they gave her four different cardio-respiratory depressants, which seems like a lot for such a minimally invasive procedure on a cat that wasn’t difficult at all. Contrary to what we were told, it wasn’t a sudden heart problem: my cat apparently stopped breathing (apnoea) at the end of the biopsy, and the cardiac arrest was therefore a result of asphyxiation. Even though she had already stopped breathing (she wasn't intubated as it was a short procedure), they injected the Atipam (the reversal agent) subcutaneously—the slowest possible route—even though she had an IV catheter in place! On a cat that hadn't been breathing for god knows how long! Obviously, by the time the meds kicked in, her heart had stopped due to the lack of oxygen.

Stunning, truly beautiful.