pets
I can never quite reconcile myself to the concept of keeping another species, another creature, as a pet. I think of this as my dog becomes old, has laboured breathing, sleeps away the day. I keep him alive. I may decide to end his life. I am all he knows of life - me, my kids, and the abuse of my ex if a dog can somehow remember that far back. There are people who have come and gone in his life. He's travelled along with me - moved in and out of Kevin's house - been cursed and blessed with the same circumstance. He's been fourteen year of constancy - he's always lived under my roof, I've always cared for him. Fourteen years of vets and groomers and dog food and training. He used to fit in my one hand. He has no pressing reason to die just yet though he can't survive in the wild - he lives by my "grace". Is this why we own pets? Is this part of it? To play God?
I don't like it.
I don't like it.