This week Linda and I closed the door on yet another part of our lives. We had to take Sidney to the vet to end her life. In less than three months she had gone from her usual self to a point where simply breathing was about all she had energy for. We agreed that she would be our last pet, that at our age starting with another pet would be unfair to all concerned.

Sidney was a regal cat. Only when she was older and was the only cat in the house did she deign to associate with people and occasionally accept a pat on the head. It seemed that her favorite connection with the human race was when Linda was working at the table she sometimes uses for a desk. Sidney would lie with her head on Linda’s foot and stay there until something caused one of them to move. We’ll miss Sidney, just as we missed each of her predecessors.

Abby, our little cripple kitty who would lie on my lap for hours, purring her squeaky little purr.

Amber, another beautiful and regal cat who was Linda’s and nobody else’s.

BC, brought home by Leslie and left here when Leslie went off to college. BC used to sleep on my shoulder while I was reading.

Sam, the only one of our three dogs who had an actual pedigree. He was Sir Sampson VI, but he didn’t know it. He was an obedience school dropout and acted like a mutt. But he was a lovable little poodle, almost embarrassingly grateful for any attention given him.

Midnight was the last of the mostly-outdoor cats. She reminded us about every day that she didn’t really need humans, but would visit occasionally. She subscribed to Katherine Hepburn’s definition of a happy marriage: Live close by and visit often.

Dolly was a mixed breed, sort of a cross between a dust mop and a jar of honey. She was a kind and patient dog, the best qualities for a pet in a house with two children.

Blinky was our first dog and lasted only a couple of days. Shortly after we adopted him from the Humane Society, he decided to taste Chuck’s ear. When we heard Chuck yell and ran out to see blood pouring down his face, we decided that Blinky probably didn’t contain all of the qualities needed for a home with a 4-year-old child. I took him back to the Humane Society, and he was readopted the next day. I hope it was by a home with older or better tasting children.

There were two pets that were purely for the children. Leslie felt a strong need for a parakeet; so Budgie came to live with us. When Leslie left, Budgie stayed. Who knew that parakeets would live so long.

And Bubba Fish was a resident in our aquarium for a year or more. He had a lot of company, but the rest of them didn’t stay long. In fact, I think we populated fish heaven. But Bubba, a big bottom feeding catfish, just kept floating along. I found it hard, however, to get close to a fish.

We loved our pets, probably because each one of them in a particular way, brought love to us. And they also taught us some things.

One is that “pet-owner” is a misnomer. We buy their food, serve their food, get up in the middle of the night to let them out (in the old days), pat them, brush them, buy them toys and have beds strewn throughout the house. They sleep a lot and accept pats when they want to. It’s pretty obvious who owns whom.

The second thing is that there is a special streak of mean in people who mistreat animals. Almost every night there’s a story—sometimes several—on the news about some animal who has been beaten, burned or starved. Obviously the people who do these things either have no soul or have never felt the pleasure of another being trusting you implicitly.

There’s a third thing, one that’s not happy. We don’t like playing God. We had to decide when to end the lives of three of our cats and one of our dogs. In at least one case, we waited longer than we should have, simply because we didn’t want to lose her. But that taught us that animals were not put here just for our pleasure, but were beings unto themselves, and their suffering shouldn’t be prolonged just to avoid our loss. That provided some guidance in dealing with the decisions for the others.

But it didn’t make it less sad.

We miss them all.