Morality Of Euthanasia

"The third night that I roomed with Jack in our tiny double room, in
the solid-tumor ward of the cancer clinic of the National Institute of
Health in Maryland, a terrible thought occurred to me. Jack had a
melanoma in his belly, a malignant solid tumor that the doctors
guessed was the size of a softball. The doctors planned to remove the
tumor, but they knew Jack would soon die. The cancer had now spread
out of control. Jack, about 28, was in constant pain, and his doctor
had prescribed an intravenous shot, a pain killer, and this would
control the pain for perhaps two hours or a bit more. Then he would
begin to moan, or whimper, very low, as though he didn't want to wake
me. Then he would begin to howl, like a dog. When this happened, he
would ring for a nurse, and ask for the pain-killer. The third night
of his routine, a terrible thought occurred to me. 'If Jack were a
dog, I thought, what would be done to him?' The answer was obvious:
the pound, ...