I know many people love their pets, and when I've had them I've been fond of them as well. However..... The life expectancy of cats and dogs is relatively short, compared to humans, and if you keep them, you had better be prepared for their deaths. Not that one should be cavalier about it, but if you can't come to terms with the animal's eventual demise, don't keep them. Death is a natural progression of life. I also find the position of this item on this list symptomatic of North American self-indulgence. Pet death is rated marginally lower than death of one's child, and well above death of a sibling, spouse or either parent. Pillory me if you will, but if you believe that, if you truly believe that, you are emotionally disabled. 

UPDATE:  edt4's story had made me expansive, and not it a good way.  If you are among those who anthropomorphise animals read no further.  I warn you this once.

Ok, here goes.  When I was  a kid, I had a dog. By which I mean, we always had dogs, but when I was 5 I got my own dog.  A blonde half-Cocker called Casey.  We lived on a 5 acre parcel that was mostly bush, and exploring that Casey was my constant companion, happy, loyal, willing even to be hoiked up a ladder to a tree fort.  He was, through good times and bad, my only non-judgemental friend.

Fast forward a few years.  I'm 13, my father dies, I become a criminal and the bane of my mother's life.  But even then I was loyal to Casey and he to me. 

And then one day I was sixteen, and Casey couldn't walk anymore, and was nearly blind.  And on that day I carried him out into the bush, and put a .22 long  behind his ear and buried him.  And yes, I cried.  And even now, maudlin old Harp that I am, I still raise a glass to him. 

But for all that, he was a dog.  And I have never failed to weep harder for the death of a human friend.

From the time I was an infant, we always had pets in my family-- cats, a snake, turtles, and then, later, dogs. Inevitably, there were the deaths. Somewhere, there's a black-and-white picture of me at the age of 9, sitting with our soon-to-be-euthanized cat Tiger, trying to hold back tears, not quite succeeding, as Tiger's last picture was taken. Later, when we had dogs, their care was primarily my responsibility, but when the time came for them to be put down, it was my father who dealt with it. I wasn't squeamish, or overly timid, or phobic about death, but I guess I just couldn't face the prospect of those last moments together with the innocent animal I had spent so many years with, the animal who had provided me with such simple but unconditional love. Years later, after I moved out and was on my own, my sister gave me a kitten that I really didn't want, but accepted. Bella (the name was my mother's pick; I couldn't think of anything) was a mixed blessing. In the early years, she'd roll over on her back enticingly, I'd lean down to scratch her belly, and she'd rake my hands with her claws in feral glee. The furniture I had, my carpet...all systematically shredded by her over the years (OK, it wasn't Duncan Fife, but still...). It was tough to just go off with someone for a few days, knowing that the cat was alone back in my place, causing God knew what havoc. As time passed, though, there were benefits to her companionship. On a bad day, I never got the feeling that she was sitting in judgment of me like my parents might have, or some of my friends, or girlfriends, bosses, teachers, etc. At some point, she'd let me pick her up, nuzzle my face against hers, and I lost my fear that she'd rake her claws through my mug while I did it. She didn't appreciate it, and would ultimately make her objections known by squirming in my grasp and "meowing" in annoyance, but for the first minute or so, she'd acquiesce, as if saying to herself, "Well, the guy does feed me, after all." When I'd come home from work, Bella would sometimes trot casually over, jump up onto my lap, and settle down with a unique feline certitude that always made me laugh, as if she had "Squatter's Rights". Once, when I went away on vacation, I left her with my parents. When I came back to get her, she strolled over, jumped up on my lap and settled herself down; my mother laughed and said, "That's your cat, boy. She knows who is putting the food in her bowl." Sometimes, when I was attending to the call of nature, she'd scratch at the bathroom door until I let her in. She'd then jump up onto the tub alongside the toilet, and wait for me to pet her a few times. At that point, having gotten the attention she wanted, she'd jump back down and leisurely exit the room. In back of my mind was the increasing awareness that she wasn't going to live forever (well, who does?). Finally, one day, she stopped eating. I bought out several different cans of cat food and even salmon, opened them all, but she did not partake, expressed no interest at all. My hope was that she would die quietly in the home she had known for most of her life, but the thought occurred to me, "What if she's suffering? How could she let me know? Who knows how long it takes a cat to die?" Spontaneously (I didn't want to think about it too much), I took her to the vet, who quickly examined her, and said, "It's time." I petted her a few times (I felt we had already made our goodbyes back at home), and quickly left, before I embarrassed myself in front of the staff. When I got home, I broke down and bawled like the 9-year old kid I once was, that 9-year old kid seeing Tiger off for the last time. I understand that a pet is an animal, not a human being, and I would agree with Irishgit that some people get their priorities alarmingly misplaced, valuing animals more than they do human beings. Still, Bella had been a companion for 15 years, and her death hit me harder than I could have anticipated. I understand that death is a part of life, but I don't think I'll be getting another pet again, ever. It actually does seem to hurt worse than it did when I was 9. R.I.P., Bella, ol' girl.

NEW UPDATE:  Fido is no more.  I lost him in early January, 2009, and sadness reigns in the Hunnic Yurt.

UPDATED:  I lost my cat, Angus, this year and my beloved Fido is getting feeble. This is the pits.

ORIGINAL COMMENT: For some people, loss of a pet is absolutely the worst, and particularly older people who have nothing left but a beloved pet. 

Our dogs are like a member of our family. it is sad to lose a pet. Dogs are so devoted and ask for little. They give so much. It is sad to lose one of these wonderful animals.  I could never forget the pets who have been in my life.  UPDATE: this past friday, we lost one of our dogs. her name was FANCY  she was a shi tzu and she was fifteen years old. she got sick very fast but was just too ill to pull through we took her to the Veterinarian tried for 24 hours but she was not any better. We had just hired a  grooming on wheels service to get her a haircut.she was fine the next morning she was very ill. feeling pretty bad now. she was a sweet dog. just thought I would talk about her.  just added a picture of Fancy and Molly. Fancy was the tri colored shi-tzu. she was a good girl.  we just hope we gave her a good happy home.

The death of pets will hit very close to home because of their helplessness and total faith in you. There are so many of my pets over the years that I miss dearly, but I know that they are OK.

I have had a couple of pets that have died, and it's a very sad day. Especially when they have become such a big part of the family and your life.

October 4 will mark the one-year anniversary of my cat's death. It will be a difficult day for me. We were together for 17 years, and I never thought  I could love an animal so much. I hated putting him to sleep but I knew he was suffering and it was time for him to go. I cried so much for him, but at least I know he is at peace now and I hope someday to see him again.

I agree with Molfan, we are definitely in the same place regarding our pets.  All mine are family members.  They are with you in the good times and the bad, will love you unconditionally, and give all of themselves to you.  It is a very difficult thing to lose these family members ~ I know, we lost two of our beloved dogs within 7 months of each other.  I appreciate what Twansalem is saying, however, animals that were put here for food is slightly different.  Not that you can't love a rabbit or a duck, but it somehow isn't quite the same.

I'll admit that it got to me a little when the dog I had through almost all of my teen years died. But that was the only pet I was ever attached to at all. We had several other dogs while I was little, and even as a little kid, it never really bothered me that much when they died. Cats came and went on a regular basis. I never could keep a golfish alive for more than a month or two. I grew up on a farm, so I saw animals die all the time. We butchered hogs and chickens on a regular basis. Other animals that occasionally got the hatchet in favor of the cooking pot included rabbits, ducks, geese, turkeys, guinea fowl, and probably a few others I can't even remember. When you're used to these sort of things, you get over dead pets rather quickly.

I've found this book...."dog secrets" it says that dog should live longer then what they do....it's what we are feeding them that is killing them so soo......And now with this recall you don't know what to feed your pets anymore.... And I put my pets right up there with the rest of my family.....they are equal....not any lower then we are.....

I agree with all of you. Pets are part of the family and you love them and cherish them as if they were humans. They are beautiful living souls and many of them can offer sometimes more than another person can.

I do not have children and have grown up around animals my whole life. Losing a pet is just as hurtful as losing a member of the family, because they ARE a part of the family for most people, especially for me.

I lost my cat, L.P., almost a year ago. He was 17 years old. He had been with me since he was a month old. He had a tumor and had been in pain for three days. When I had him put to sleep, I cried for about ten minutes. To this day, anytime I see a cat or kitten, especially a black cat, my heart gets heavy.

Think what you want, but when our Sheltie, Pepper, died in 1992, I cried like a baby, in front of my family. I took it hard. We had Pepper for 12 years and she was part of the family. It was five years before I could get another dog.

Update: My condolances, Magellan,  on the loss of the family dog. I know from my own personal experience just how painful it can be. That's a great photo with your niece and Kaya, I'm sure it will become a family treasure. God Bless you and your family!

Pets are the only source for most people to get love that is truly unconditional. In my prayers, magellan.

My sister's dog died this morning. Kaya was a big dog, 120 pounds plus in her prime. The thing I'll remember most about her is her dedication to my sister. S. would walk into a room, and like a shadow, Kaya would pad in silently behind her, eyes always on my sister.

Kaya was a rugged outdoor dog. She faced down a bear or two in her lifetime, and could turn menacing if she felt that an animal or person was threatening her family. And when Kaya menaced, just about every creature would take notice.

When my sister had a baby, everyone worried about how Kaya would take this intrusion on her bond with my sister. They shouldn't have worried. Even when my 2 year old niece would play rough with Kaya's aching fourteen year old body, Kaya was gentle as a lamb. I'm glad they got to know each other.

Kaya died as we all would like to go out. In her bed and with her family around her. You were a good dog K, and a loyal member of my family. Wherever you are now, I hope there's plenty of mountains, and snow, and streams, and dirt, and hills. Kaya (July 3, 1992 - March 22, 2007)
 ;

I'd experienced this as a kid and it sucks. It's a part of life though dudes, but it still hurts sometimes.

I had five hamsters when I was little, and they all died. THat was really hard, but when my fish die, I just buy new ones. Now, if my puppy were to die, I'd be devastated.

They become a part of the family. I work at a veterinary specialist's clinic now; unfortunately, a lot of times, it's the last resort for a lot of pets whose conditions are so drastic that their regular vets can't do much else for them. I've seen people who would go to the ends of the earth for their pets. When there is nothing else that can be done, and they are faced with that terrible and difficult decision, that's one of the hardest things that a person must do for a loved one. I don't rate this a "5" only because I'd imagine losing one's spouse or child would be still much harder than this. 10/8/05: Where I work, we close at 6pm and we trade our building off to an emergency vet service. A few nights ago, a lady had to transfer her dog to our care after the emergency services left. After ultrasounds and xrays, it was pretty clear what was wrong with the little dog: cancer had COMPLETELY destroyed the liver. There was pretty much nothing left. We encouraged her to take all the time she needs; she knew her dog waasn't going to make it, but it's never easy to make that decision. I don't know how late in the night she showed up at the emergency center, but she stayed with us for four hours in our waiting room, taking turns being composed and outright bawling, holding her dog. I went out to talk to her. "I can't do this, I can't . . . I wish she'd just go to sleep on her own . . . " she said, over and over again. I asked her if she needed a hug. She nodded, and buried her face into my shoulder, sobbing. She told me that first, her daughter had committed suicide recently, she had just moved to the area and knows no one, and now this. As if her dog dying wasn't bad enough. I wish there were something that I could have done, but no one could have done anything at all to stop this; the dog was too far gone. I know there's a lot of people who think "It's *just* a dog", or "it's *only* a cat", but sometimes, that dog or cat means the world to someone who loves them. Hugs and sympathy cards don't really change things all that much, but at least the person knows that someone else cares out there and understands what they're going through.

This can be crushing. I've had three family dogs die on me during my lifetime and they were all bad times. At least when people die, no matter how close, you can usually remember something rotten that they did. This is not usually the case with dogs. They are unqualifiedly loyal and affectionate. Further, you don't realize what an ingrained part of your daily life they are until they are gone.

Most pets do not have the same life span as humans, so it is natural to expect that they will die sooner.