I can’t express how grateful Michele and I are for your help yesterday. Ending Smelca’s long life had been an agonizing decision process as we watched her slowly deteriorate. Letting go was made so much easier thanks to the caring, laid back experience we had with you.
Our intent in having in-home euthanasia was to avoid the clinical efficiency of the vet visit experience. The final drive to the clinic, the cat's terror of being in a waiting room filled with other animals in anguish. The indignity of that cold, stainless steel table in the exam room, struggling to twist away from unfamiliar hands, the realization that her owner is present but not lifting a finger to save her from that needle... all of that is removed when the pet is comfortbly positioned on the lap of the owner, surrounded by familiar sights and smells, assured in her trusting cat mind that this is all some inconvenience that will pass like getting one's nails trimmed. Then a gentle massaging behind the neck, a barely noticed pnk prick-- getting sleepy now, hearing the soothing voice she has known all her life as the light fades-- all the pain slipping away now... then the dark. And the peace.
Dr. Annie was extremely generous with her time, explaining the procedure, taking the time to learn about my cat, Smelca, and being very gentle. I never felt I was being rushed or even compelled to go through the procedure.
Although “Smelca” sounds like some exotic Russian name, in fact it came about from her rescue. When Michele brought Smelca into her home she had, along with the sunburnt ears, terrible smelling bowel movements due to the presence of parasites. At the time, one of the shows we enjoyed on TV was “Friends” in which there was a made up song about that kind of malodorous feline called “Smelly Cat”. So we just reduced it to Smelca.
Being deaf from birth, Smelca presented challenges all her own:
When the lights went out at bedtime, Smelca’s explorer instincts would take over. She would pry open the lower cupboards in the kitchen and make her way across a dozen pots and pans.
Because the bedroom was in the rear of the apartment, Michele was unaware of the banging around that Smelca was doing. the next door neighbors, however, eventually caught Michele going to work one morning and asked what she could possibly be doing in the kitchen at 3:00 O’clock in the morning to make so much noise! 
Smelca also had a habit of seeking out attractive hiding places and going to sleep. When Michele frantically went to look for her, thinking she had somehow got out of the apartment, no amount of name calling would rouse the deaf cat. Michele resorted to stamping her feet on the floor, causing vibrations that would eventually bring Smelca out yawning, from wherever she had been sleeping, wondering what all the ruckus was about.
And then there was the time Michele was doing cat feeding while also putting away groceries. Once again Smelca disappeared and not even the foot stomping would bring her out. Michele calmly thought about what had been taking place in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and there on the bottom shelf lay Smelca, wide awake with her feet tucked under her, annoyed that she had missed dinner. (she did, however, get the answer to the age old question of whether or not the light turns off when you close the refrigerator door).
I salute you for your empathy in these difficult situations. Michele and I have agreed that this end-of-life process will be our choice for all our pets from now on.