Random Thoughts

The Black-and-White Truth About Pet Ownership

Our responsibility to protect our pets is absolute and non-negotiable.

A pet, in the simplest terms, is any non-human creature we love and accept responsibility for. I love nearly all animals, but that doesn’t make them all my pets. Having traveled to Kenya many times, I’d love to have a giraffe, but that’s neither realistic nor fair to the giraffe.

Formally, a pet is an animal kept primarily for companionship, emotional support, or enjoyment—rather than for work, food, or other practical purposes. Some pets may also serve useful functions—dogs guarding a home, cats controlling pests, animals providing therapy—but what truly defines a pet is the human-animal bond, built through consistent care, interaction, and affection.

What qualifies as a pet varies across cultures. Worldwide, dogs, cats, rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, and gerbils are common. Birds are prized for their songs, colors, and speech; fish and aquatic pets for their beauty and calming presence. Others keep reptiles, amphibians, or more unusual companions—hedgehogs, sugar gliders, even capybaras, the world’s largest rodent.

Regional traditions add variety. In Japan, koi fish, beetles, and crickets are popular. In the Middle East, falcons and camels are valued. South Americans may treasure parrots and macaws, while in rural Africa, goats, chickens, and sometimes monkeys are kept. In India, parakeets and mynah birds are favorites. In parts of Europe, such as the UK, ferrets have devoted followings.

Some animals straddle the line between companion and working partner. Horses are valued for sport, companionship, and transport. Donkeys and mules assist in farming but are also affectionate protectors of other animals. Goats and sheep are livestock but appear in petting farms. Chickens and ducks provide both eggs and companionship.

Whatever the species, choosing to bring an animal into your life means accepting an unshakable duty of care. This is not a vague, feel-good notion—it’s a black-and-white principle. Either you take that responsibility seriously, or you don’t take it at all. There is no middle ground. Anything worth doing is worth doing well, and pet ownership is no exception.

When you decide to own a pet, you enter an unspoken but binding moral contract. The animal didn’t choose you—you chose them. That choice means their health, safety, and emotional well-being become your responsibility. A pet is not an accessory or a hobby; it’s a living being who depends on you completely.

Pet ownership is stewardship—the care of something precious. And stewardship demands full effort, not half measures. Neglect doesn’t always look like cruelty—sometimes it’s simply failing to meet basic needs.

Take dogs. They require far more than food and water. They need exercise, mental stimulation, veterinary care, socialization, and safety. If you feed your dog once a day and let it outside for five minutes, you’re not meeting the standard of care they deserve.

The same applies to chickens. Many assume they’re low-maintenance because they’re livestock, but that’s a myth. Chickens need secure coops to protect them from predators, clean water, balanced feed, and shelter from extreme weather. Letting them roam freely because “that’s what they like” is like letting children play in the street because they enjoy it—it’s reckless. Pets are family, and we protect family.

You either take care of your animals properly, or you shouldn’t have them at all. Love without action is sentiment, not stewardship. If you can’t afford the time or resources to meet an animal’s needs, the responsible choice is not to take one on.

This isn’t about perfection—mistakes happen—but responsible owners treat their animals’ welfare as a non-negotiable priority. Irresponsible owners treat it as an afterthought. A laissez-faire attitude isn’t just lazy—it’s dangerous. Animals can’t tell you when they’re in pain, scared, or unwell. If you’re not tuned in, you’ll miss the warning signs until it’s too late.

Neglect often hides in plain sight—limps ignored, odd behavior dismissed, appetite changes overlooked. By the time action is taken, the problem may be far worse. Pets thrive under proactive care, not reactive care. That means regular vet visits, clean living conditions, balanced diets, and anticipating hazards before they become tragedies.

Done right, pet ownership benefits both animal and owner. It teaches discipline, empathy, and follow-through. It forces you to think beyond your own convenience and make decisions for another’s well-being. Children raised in homes where pets are treated with genuine care learn that animals are not disposable, that promises matter, and that compassion is shown through consistent effort. Conversely, children who see pets neglected learn that living beings can be treated as property—an attitude that often shapes how they treat others.

Taking pet ownership seriously means:

1. Lifetime Commitment – Caring from adoption to end of life, including senior care.

2. Proper Nutrition – Balanced, species-appropriate diets.

3. Healthcare – Annual check-ups, vaccinations, parasite prevention, prompt treatment of illness or injury.

4. Safe Housing – Secure, clean, weather-appropriate shelter.

5. Physical and Mental Enrichment – Exercise, stimulation, and interaction.

6. Respect and Compassion – Meeting emotional needs as well as physical ones.

This is not a checklist you complete once—it’s a daily standard.

If you can’t or won’t meet that standard, don’t get a pet. There’s no shame in admitting you lack the time, resources, or interest. It’s more honorable to acknowledge that than to bring an animal into your life and fail them later. For those who choose pet ownership, the expectation is clear: you are their guardian, their advocate, and often their only line of defense against harm. That responsibility doesn’t pause when life gets busy.

I am, and always will be, black and white on this: we owe our pets absolute protection and care. You do it right, or you don’t do it at all. Animals give us their trust without reservation—it’s our moral duty to honor that trust every single day. If that sounds like too much work, it’s because it is. And that’s precisely why only those ready to meet that standard should have pets in the first place.

I Miss You, Buffy

1 Represents 8

I miss you.

I miss saying your nicknames—

Buffy Bear, Buffarino, Reno, Reno Beano, Reno Beano Bambino.

I miss the way we lived around your little body—

stepping carefully, watching for poop,

trying not to bump you,

trying not to miss a moment of you.

I miss holding you,

touching you,

walking with you in circles that never felt small.

I miss making your treat trays,

petting you,

hearing you talk—your tiny, perfect voice.

I miss your blankets,

your mornings,

our work days,

our bench.

I miss our time in the garden,

your warnings about hawks.

I miss your feathers,

your belly,

your fierce little eyes,

your gummy bear comb,

your toes.

I miss you chasing frogs,

eating grass through the garden fence,

attacking paper towels,

chewing on hair ties,

and that wild, joyful rush for snacks.

I miss you sleeping on me,

standing on me,

laying across my chest,

roosting under the table,

watching the world from red chairs while I cooked.

I miss your dust baths,

your face in whipped cream,

the way your feathers moved in the wind.

I miss carrying you,

snuggling you,

planning my days around you.

I miss singing You Are My Sunshine

and meaning every word.

I miss your warmth.

I miss your trust.

I miss your loyalty.

I miss your curiosity.

I miss your little bum-bum.

I miss you at the mailbox flowers,

the stop sign,

under the Christmas tree,

under the palm.

I miss the sound of you breathing,

the joy of you nibbling my face.

I miss the look in your eyes,

your tiny tongue,

your beak,

your waddles,

your everything.

I miss the crows watching over you

as I tried to do the same.

I miss opening the door

and watching you hop out like it was the first time.

I miss loving you.

I miss caring for you.

I miss the unending joy you brought me.

You were the last,

but you were never alone.

1 represents 8—

and losing you,

was losing them all again.

I miss everything.

I miss you.