Because it is entirely possible to have a deep bond with your pet.
Yesterday, when I scrolled over my f-list, I saw that two people lost their pets. Both pets were cats and they were rather cute-looking furrballs. (Sorry, I'm a sucker for cats.) Today, for some reason, I got to thinking about the bonds people form with their animals. Usually, it's in the form of an attachment. The pet is a member of the family, and it really saddens the family when the pet dies or has to be put down.
Sometimes, bonds are a little deeper and I know this to be a fact because I've experienced such a bond myself. From June of 1992 to August of 2002, we had this male cat named Stinky. Orange and white fluffy thing, was named Stinky because he had skunk-smell in his fur for a week, despite my attempts to wash the stench out, and I had this cat downright spoiled rotten. (My mom and stepdad went to get him for me the day after another cat of ours had been hit and killed by a car.) Stinky was quite literally MY baby. Very seldom did that cat sleep with someone else. Yes, for a while, he had to stay in a different place (first time was because of where he was living, second time was because of his health issue), but it was rare for him to be parted from me whenever I was home.
In August of 2002, my cat disappeared on us. It was one of those really strange things. My mom had been keeping track of who had seen Stink last. I'm not sure why, but that's what she'd been doing. Probably because it was unusual for us to not see him lounging on one of the chairs or the couch. Around that time, I'd made a mad dash to New York to catch a couple of Bangles' concerts. I'd made it to one but not the other. Anyway, as I was leaving the one parking lot, I'd had this really strange sensation, and I knew my cat was dead. No rhyme or reason for it, I just knew my cat was gone. My stepdad believes Stink took off so we'd be spared the agony of losing him. He said back then that cats, if they know they're going to die and if they can get away, they will take off to go somewhere and die. With Stink, it must have been true. I saw him the day before I left but never again after that. He never showed up home again. My little sister kept thinking he might, but we kept telling her 'no.' Stink wasn't coming home again.
I've not really shed a tear since Stink took off on us. I didn't see his body anywhere, but I know he's dead. I do miss him, though. He was my cuddlebug of a cat, and he had the quietest, most lulling purr of any cat we've ever had in our lives. My stepdad claimed it was enough to put anyone to sleep! And he was a good cat, too. A pain in the ass, but still a good cat.
Sometimes, bonds are a little deeper and I know this to be a fact because I've experienced such a bond myself. From June of 1992 to August of 2002, we had this male cat named Stinky. Orange and white fluffy thing, was named Stinky because he had skunk-smell in his fur for a week, despite my attempts to wash the stench out, and I had this cat downright spoiled rotten. (My mom and stepdad went to get him for me the day after another cat of ours had been hit and killed by a car.) Stinky was quite literally MY baby. Very seldom did that cat sleep with someone else. Yes, for a while, he had to stay in a different place (first time was because of where he was living, second time was because of his health issue), but it was rare for him to be parted from me whenever I was home.
In August of 2002, my cat disappeared on us. It was one of those really strange things. My mom had been keeping track of who had seen Stink last. I'm not sure why, but that's what she'd been doing. Probably because it was unusual for us to not see him lounging on one of the chairs or the couch. Around that time, I'd made a mad dash to New York to catch a couple of Bangles' concerts. I'd made it to one but not the other. Anyway, as I was leaving the one parking lot, I'd had this really strange sensation, and I knew my cat was dead. No rhyme or reason for it, I just knew my cat was gone. My stepdad believes Stink took off so we'd be spared the agony of losing him. He said back then that cats, if they know they're going to die and if they can get away, they will take off to go somewhere and die. With Stink, it must have been true. I saw him the day before I left but never again after that. He never showed up home again. My little sister kept thinking he might, but we kept telling her 'no.' Stink wasn't coming home again.
I've not really shed a tear since Stink took off on us. I didn't see his body anywhere, but I know he's dead. I do miss him, though. He was my cuddlebug of a cat, and he had the quietest, most lulling purr of any cat we've ever had in our lives. My stepdad claimed it was enough to put anyone to sleep! And he was a good cat, too. A pain in the ass, but still a good cat.