PETS

A Matter of Replacement: Pets Aren’t Replaceable Any More Than You Are

Please don’t ever ask someone if they are going to replace a beloved pet

I can’t number the times I’ve heard someone say, “After Skipper died, I replaced him with a year-old Beagle named Sammie.” Or something to that effect. And every time I hear those words, I wonder what kind of pet “owner” are you?

Even the notion of ownership is something I’m not comfortable with when referring to our companion animals. My husband Michael and I are “guardians” to our three cats — we’re not their owner.

I agree with Pulitzer Prize winning author Alice Walker who wrote: “The animals of the world exist for their own reasons. They were not made for humans any more than black people were made for white people, or women created for men.”

You don’t replace companion pets any more than you would replace your own child or your beloved aunt or sister.

What you can replace is the companionship that animal gave you.

Still, there are people who treat their pets not as real family members but as disposable objects to be used until they are no longer cute and cuddly, or until their incontinence or fragility become inconvenient.

Unfortunately our consumer society reinforces this attitude and makes it easy to view pets as exchangeable and replaceable commodities.

I once read an article about a couple who shopped breeders for the perfect “designer dog.” The dog’s job was to sit on a plush oriental rug in front of their ornate stone fireplace. They wanted to create a picturesque scene to impress their guests when coming over for dinner or drinks.

There was another one about an elderly ridiculous lady who returned a cat to the pet store for a refund. Her reason? The pet “didn’t go with the décor of our den,” she replied.

My friend Mavis recently lost her ten-year-old cat, Domino. It was heartbreaking enough to lose her companion to kidney disease but she was doubly saddened to witness the grief of the surviving litter mate as Jinx wandered the house yowling for her brother.

There are conflicting opinions about what to do in a situation like this. Mavis, the enlightened animal lover that she is, knows she’ll never “replace” the sweet cat she lovingly buried in her back yard.

But here’s her dilemma. How soon would she be able to open up her heart to another pet — a cat or kitten who would be completely different from the little soul who she shared ten years of her life with?

A few mutual friends advised her to wait until she is “ready.”

What does that even mean, being “ready”? In my mind, “ready” is a vague state of being most of us would not be able to identify. And I’m sure it differs greatly from one person to the other.

Some friends are suggesting she should begin her search for a new companion sooner than later. They argue that not only will it help Mavis through her grief but it would also benefit little Jinx, who needs someone to play with.

A few people — not friends of mine, merely acquaintances — have callously suggested she needs to simply get on with it. “You can replace Domino with one of those cute Russian Blues they posted last weekend on the animal shelter’s Facebook page,” said one gal — a member of Mavis’s book club.

I was told of this conversation the other day. Mavis said she almost cried as the woman rattled on and on about how cats don’t really “understand death” and that a new brother for Jinx would replace the old one who died, and that all would be well with the world.

No cat — ever — could replace her precious Domino she told me tearfully. I agreed with her, and said I knew Domino occupied a special place in her heart. One that could never be replaced by anyone or anything.

This week Mavis began her search for anther kitty— not a replacement but rather a new companion for both her and Jinx. She’ll make the choice carefully, and once made, she will dramatically change the life of another homeless creature.

She will add to — not replace — the long line of pets who’ve lived with her since she was old enough to caress a head, gently tug a tail, pat a rear end, and kiss a twitching ear.

And everyone will be better for it.

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