Our Pets are Our Kids…But

“Mom, can I give Blackie a bone?”

“No bones for Blackie, ever. They will kill him.”

“But…”

The conversation may have gone like this. I was six, seven, maybe eight years old. Our Blackie was a miniature poodle. He was a companion, a watcher, somebody to play fetch with. And when he became an elderly dog, one that at times I lovingly washed when he had accidents. It was…