News

When I recently applied for pet licences for our dog and cat, I had to face a stark truth: I've been in affectionate denial that they're getting on in years. For some time I've been claiming they were 10 years old. But when I checked, I realized my dog is actually 12 and my cat almost 13. It means my family has to start worrying about, you know, the end.

For most people, the end of their pet's life, while always traumatic, has until recently been a private affair. It was also seen as inevitable - pets don't live as long as humans, so having to say goodbye was the emotional price you paid for loving and being loved by a family pet.

Now, pet mortality can be delayed by modern medicine (and inordinate sums of money), and pet bereavement has become very public and prolonged indeed.

Some workplaces allow you time off to grieve for Buddy or Sasha. There are crisis lines you can phone, little pet caskets and memorial plaques you can order. Hallmark (naturally) has gotten into the act. I know people who have spent more time wallowing over the death of a dog than they did over the departure of a close relative.

All of this makes me uneasy.

It's not that I don't recognize the deep love between human and animal. The day we brought our cockapoo Lucy home, she of the curly black hair and madly waving tail, we all fell in love.

I took our son to see Phantom of the Opera, and when Raoul sang All I Ask Of You ("no more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears; I'm here, nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you ...") to my own astonishment, it wasn't my beloved husband who popped into my head for this emblematic love song; it was our new puppy. (It's all right, my husband hates Andrew Lloyd Webber.)

Later, when I read that most North American pet owners tell their animals out loud that they love them once a day, I related.

But the dividing line that used to separate animals and human beings has become alarmingly blurred, to the point where dogs especially are not just lovely additions to people's lives; they are their lives.

People routinely describe themselves as Brandy's Mom or Stuffy's Dad. I once had the owner of a trendy pet store ask me, "What do you feed your kids?" It took me a moment to realize she was talking about designer kibble.

Normally intelligent people now stubbornly show up at social occasions with huge dogs in tow, as if the dogs' feelings would be hurt if they were left at home.

So it's no wonder they dig deep into their wallets to try to keep their companions alive for just a little bit longer.

Recently, a "high doggie tea" was held in Toronto to raise money for a new cancer centre for dogs. I winced over one media report in which a woman paid several thousand dollars for her dog to have cancer therapy to make the pet comfortable for a few more months.

This seems at best misguided love and at worst vanity - it is not the dog's lifestyle that is being preserved, it is the owner's.

Of the approximately 3.5 million dogs in Canada, it's estimated that up to one in four will develop some form of cancer. Researchers say hopefully that these animal cancer centres can develop new ways to fight the disease in both animals and people.

Vets argue that pets often suffer less than humans do during chemotherapy (smaller doses are required), and besides, if you can put an animal in remission for a few months, that equals, what, two or three human years?

Still, I never leave my vet's office feeling anything but guilty as I turn down costly and what I consider unnecessary tests. And my pets are healthy. How much guilt am I going to feel if I can't afford or choose not to pay $1,000 for an MRI when they actually need it?

Dr. Louise Langlais, a veterinarian in Cambridge, Ont., said in an interview that I'm not being pressured to spend more money, but rather "being given more choices." Today, she said, just as with humans, animal medicine can do so much more.

There's no question people are spending two to three times more money than they used to, say, 20 years ago, on the health of their pets, Dr. Langlais says. And she is "happy to report" that far fewer people are asking her to perform "economic euthanasias," in which pet owners choose to have their pet put to sleep rather than spend a lot of money.

If they can spend even more money on lottery tickets or smoking, she argues, why shouldn't they spend it on animals who at least give them unconditional love?

Perhaps, Dr. Langlais suggests, if we saw an itemized account of our own medical bills we would understand that "vet medicine is a great value."

Grief over pets falling ill and dying is nothing new. It's just that today we are a far more open society about displaying all kinds of grief. If we can lay bouquets at the site where people we didn't even know died, why shouldn't we send a card to our friends when they lose a dog we've also known for years?

Still, I'm worried. Will people think I don't love my dog and cat enough if I am not prepared to spend thousands on tests or treatments to prolong their lives? I think I'd be a better person to let my animal die naturally and then give $1,000 to combat child poverty, or even animal abuse.

So right now, with two aging but still healthy pets, we are holding firm to our "no extraordinary measures" philosophy. To which our friends, who have been through that final excruciating stage, have only two short words in response: "Just wait."