My daughter’s guinea pig got very sick a while back. Wouldn’t eat or drink. She and my wife took him to the Vet. It turned out he had a twisted intestine or something like that. She was told that she could let him live in pain for however long it took to die, or she could have him put down. She was 13, and my wife let her make the decision. She decided to have him put down. She was pretty upset about it, of course.
I had a dog from the age of maybe 11 to 18 or 19. Maybe not even that long. I loved that dog, and she used to go everywhere with us—in the woods, cross country skiing, riding bikes for miles. I went off to college, and I didn’t really think too much about her. One year there, she died. I was upset, but at the same time, she wasn’t all that relevant to me. She had died to me when I went to college, for all intents and purposes. I just didn’t know it.
The summer between junior and senior year in high school, I designed and built a barn, fenced in a field with a barbed wire fence, and I bought to calves that we planned to grow for meat. During that winter, I was fairly depressed about my love life, or lack thereof. I used to go out to the barn, and sit next to, or even leaning on those mid-sized bovines, feeling their warmth on my back in contrast to the frosty air. I could see their breath freezing in the air. It carried the smell of the middle of summer, leavening the air with that sweet smell of new mown grass. We had many other adventures with these cattle and despite that, we sent them off to the charnel house to be turned into steaks and burgers at the end of the year. My sister refused to eat any of the meat, but the rest of us did, and it was probably the best beef I’ve every had in my life.
Maybe I’m not sentimental. Maybe I don’t make strong connections to animals. But I don’t think that’s true. I think I appreciate animals and can love them and enjoy them, but I never think of them as humans. They are pets, or they are being used for human purposes. They are not our equals, and I have not ever felt like they could be. I don’t think, speaking for myself, that I could ever find an animal to be at all worth spending thousands of dollars on, unless it were a great breeding animal.
It’s over. I would let the animal go. I don’t think I would take any heroic measures to save them, no matter how close I was. It doesn’t seem right, to me, to use resources in this way.
I just don’t understand how people could think it is worth it. You all say the pet is family. I understand that. But a pet being worth significant resources to someone who has very little… that does not compute for me.