Why is it so hard to lose a pet? I had the worst experience of my life this weekend, watching T-Bone run out in front of a car. I keep picturing it in my mind over and over. I was supposed to keep in safe and take care of him. He was my responsibility. He relied on me for everything- and I couldn't train him properly. He was in pain. Now he's gone. I failed him.

Pets are your children. Not for everyone, but for many Americans. Definately for myself & Art. We have connected with them on a personal and emotional level. We see human traits in them and imagine even more thoughts and feelings for them. We love them, and feel loved by them. We even refer to each other as "Mommy" and "Daddy." This is a strong statement I'm making as a pregnant woman who has yet to hold my child in my arms, and I realize that many people may disagree with me, but losing a pet is like losing a child.

You know your pet isn't going to live forever. You expect them to go before you do. But knowing it doesn't make it easier. You have a being that is totally dependent on you. You teach them, train them, feed them, love them, discipline them and shape them into what they are. You make excuses for them and stand up for them. In our case, we baby them. We let the 80 lbs Pit Bull sit on our laps. We let him snuggle up to us on the bed. We kissed his cheeks when pushed his nose in our faces. I think that dependency creates a different kind of bond than you have with parents, grandparents, friends and siblings. Not only do you feel the sorrow of loss, the hole in your life, but you feel like you fucked it all up. It's not the dog's fault. He's just a dog for Christ's sake! So where does that leave the blame?

I love all 3 of my dogs. But T-Bone was special to me. I wanted Chloe. I wanted a dog. I hinted and begged and whined and demanded that we get a puppy. I adore Chloe. She's been with us for years, and she is our very best dog. She's the smartest, the best behaved, and the prettiest. T-Bone fell upon us by accident. I wasn't looking for a dog. But I did want a baby. I was starting to hint to Art and was getting knocked down. My biological clock was starting to tick... and I got a cute little puppy instead. He became my baby. And as he grew into the giant lug that he was, he stayed so sweet and lovable. He was the one who had to be by my side at all times. He was the one who wanted to lay beside me with his head on my chest and front leg on my stomach in hug-like fashion.

Sad dosen't even begin to describe how I feel. They call it heartache with good reason. When I think about him there is a pain and tightness in my chest. My heart is broken. I miss his companionship. I miss giving him kisses. I miss his head on mine when I wake up in the morning. I miss him bumping into my legs as he rushes past me. I miss him following me from room to room so that no matter where I turn he's in my way. I miss having him next to me on the sofa when I watch tv. I miss telling stories about silly things he's done. I miss walking into the bedroom and seeing him sprawled out on the pillows.

T-Bone is in my baby book. The "My Family" page seemed empty with just myself and Art listed. So under "My Sisters" I have Chole and "My Brothers" are T-Bone and Little Man. We think T-Bone would have loved our kid.