Sharing one's life with pets poses an intriguing question: Do we own them--or do they own us?

At our house, yesterday was a very sad day indeed.  

Yesterday, my wife, Kathy, and I traipsed to the vet's office at the pre-ordained time--all for the planned demise of our beloved, rescued greyhound named Happy.  Happy was a very, very old dog, particularly so for a large-breed canine; she was almost 15 years old.  The aches and pains of old age for her seemed to both Kathy and me to be more than the simple pleasures she was deriving from life, the very ones which she'd traded on most of her life.  So we decided to take her to her final visit to the vet.  

The pet industry in the United States is substantial.  To give you some idea of this, here are a few facts you might not have been aware of:

• 62% of all households have a pet; 
• Almost 50% of homes have at least one dog, followed by about 40% with one or more cats;
• Last year close to $275 per HH was spent for solely pet food; and,
• About $400 additional dollars per HH were spent for medical care, grooming, medicines, etc.

But the numbers don't capture the important part.

Of course these substantial numbers fail to paint the full picture, for if you've ever owned [or cared for] a pet you know that the costs and payoffs are not really measured in economic terms--some of these elements are really non quantifiable, but speak to the reason for the prevalence of pets in our homes in the first place.  

And yesterday that was highlighted for Kathy and me in a most dramatic way.  So today I'm sharing with you some of my thoughts on the matter and a couple of the "messages" I sent to a few special friends--many of whom knew Happy first-hand--so you can also see up-close and personal the non-monetary elements that are ignored by all the financial calculations which are feasible.  

My dog gave back far more than she cost.  

It seems clear to me that the bargain of being a pet owner is, really, a pretty good deal--for I feel like I benefited far more than I gave or paid.  And, I'm not alone:  Kathy spent time making a customized card to share with her friends--and I thought you might like to see both the front-cover photo as well as the inside "copy" that the card carried.

To give you some sense of how I think this worked for me [all of us in our house, really], here's the message I sent yesterday to a few close acquaintances via social media:

Today our dear and very loved 14-year old rescued greyhound, Happy, died.  Her passing today was planned for sake of easing the pains and difficulties that were hers as an old, old dog—almost 98 years in human scale.  We loved her immensely and will long-remember her endearing ways and gracious manner. 

Kathy prepared a remembrance card that memorializes the sentiment we both feel:  Happy was a beautiful young dog when we first met her at the greyhound adoption center—back when we took more than a little satisfaction in having rescued her, now, some twelve years ago from the terrible dog race-track industry. 

However, in the end--if you read the message in Kathy's card carefully--Happy was the one which liberated us from thinking that we had a corner on the market for kindness and unconditional love.  Kathy did a great job at putting our feelings to paper—but Happy, really, made it all possible by leading her life in a way that seemed to bring out the best in all who met and knew her, canine and human alike. 

Happy, 1996-2011.  RIP.

The relationship is different from what at first it seems.

Whoever says that everything in life can be reduced to economic terms or a financial value simply doesn't know what I--and many, many other pet owners--understand in a very powerful way, in a way which occasions like the one I had yesterday point us to and which gets back to the question I posed at the start:  Do we "own" our pets or do they "own" us?  In other words, speaking in strictly non-economic terms, do we "possess" them or they us?

I think I know the answer; let me work up to it this way: Several years ago a client of Kathy's gave her a small gift, a decorative pillow that carries this simple message emblazoned on one side:  "My goal in life...is to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am."  When I saw the pillow for the first time I thought it was a clever turn of words; as I have thought about it over time, I think it might be more profound than I at first realized.

We're motivated to be better than we otherwise would be.

You see, our pets, in effect, bring out the best in us:  patience, kindness, attentiveness, caring, generosity, selflessness, friendliness.  And--just as it happens when other people manifest a belief in our positive attributes and capabilities--we like and respond to that kind of encouragement and confidence on the part of our pets...and we grow as more worthy, sensitive members of the human race.  

When I reflect on the life and times of our experience with pets, including all the other relationships I've had with the dogs that preceded the one that just died, I'm pretty sure that the answer to the question--for me, at least--goes like this: If you have a pet--and especially a dog--I'm pretty sure that we're in their debt--not the other way around.  

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Follow Keith's biz blog on Twitter for updates and see more of what he's reading about on his Facebook Page. If you are inclined, you can write him at kmurray@bryant.edu.