fur babies

Can Pets Fill the Empty Space Where Children Would Be?

Sue Fagalde Lick dogs, dogs as child substitutes, fur babies, parenting pets, pets are child substitutes, pets instead of children, treating pets like babies, World Childless Week , , , , , , , , , , ,

Are dogs and cats a good substitute for children? In some ways yes, in other ways no. But they do fill a gap in our lives. 

Yesterday was Pet Day at World Childless Week. Many people posted stories and pictures about their “fur babies.” Read them all at https://worldchildlessweek.net/the-importance-of-pets. 

I was particularly taken by a piece written by a woman who calls herself “LabraMummy.” The owner of two labrador retrievers, she writes, “What I know about being unable to have children is that family takes ALL forms and that being part of a family means being able to love and care for someone other than yourself.”

She goes on: “I know there are people who don’t like the term furparents or furkids but I fully embrace being known as a furmumma. Hence, I call them my family members rather than my pets. To each, their own!”

Another contributor, LH writes, “Being a parent is not only about giving birth to a baby you conceived. After all, we have grandparents and godparents also. Being a parent is about loving something and taking care of it, putting its needs before your own, doing what you can to help it have the best life possible which is exactly what us fur parents do.”

The panelists at a World Childless Week webinar titled “Who Rescues Who” agreed with LH and LabraMummy that while cats and dogs are not the same as humans, they do offer an experience of having a family and they provide a great deal of comfort to those who are grieving the loss of the children they might have had. 

I believe that’s true. It has been sixteen and a half years since my late husband Fred and I adopted Chico and Annie, the puppies in the photo. It was 2008. Fred had Alzheimer’s disease. It had advanced to the point that we had aides coming in because I couldn’t leave him alone. In less than a year, he would move into a nursing home, but we didn’t know that then. 

The puppies brought us a lot of joy at a difficult time. 

Here’s a little of what I posted then:

Fred and I adopted two 7-week-old puppies last week, and it really feels as if I have two babies. They’re the same weight as babies, have the same needs, and fill the same needs in my heart. 

Last night, my church choir surprised me with a puppy shower. There were two baby blankets, but of course no little onesies. I did get dog treats, chew toys galore, balls, weewee pads, and lots of advice. There was a gorgeous, white-frosted cake with big red flowers on it. This may sound totally nuts, but it felt as if I had received something I’d been waiting for all my life. I sat on the floor of the chapel opening presents and soaking it all in.

Puppies are certainly not the same as humans. They won’t take care of you in your old age. Conversations are rather one-sided. And they poop and piddle on the floor. But for the childless person who wanted children and didn’t have them, they’re one way of filling that emptiness.

And the following week, I wrote:

Almost three weeks into it, I feel much more relaxed about the whole puppy business. We’re falling into a routine. I feed them breakfast, take them out, stash them in the laundry room while I shower and have my breakfast, then we all dash down the hall to my office, where they munch their rawhide chews and fall asleep.

Every hour or so we have to go out because their bladders are small. I still pack one under each arm to carry them out because I don’t trust them not to pee in the house, especially when they just woke up, but that’s 27 pounds of dog now. It’s a race between housetraining and dog growth.

Eventually they have lunch, they potty, Fred and I have lunch, and we all go back to work, stopping every hour or so for a potty break and playtime. We repeat the routine until they fall asleep for the night and peace finally reigns over the kingdom.

As for training, it’s coming along, most of the time. They sit, they come, they bite less, although they’re still better paper shredders than the machine in Fred’s office. When they’re not eating, excreting or sleeping, they’re usually wrestling. It drives me nuts. But I think I had a breakthrough this morning. I actually got them to separate and sit perfectly still for at least a minute.

What has all this got to do with childlessness? Lots of things, actually. These are my baby substitutes. There is no denying it. At 56, this is the first time I have ever cared for a baby anything longer than a couple hours. I am learning lessons that mothers of human babies learn much earlier in life, especially this: the child’s needs come first. I’m struggling to spread my attention among the pups, my husband, and my work. I’m losing work time and spending tons of money on these little guys. These are all experiences that are familiar to women with children, but they’re new to me.

Dogs are not children. But I call myself “Mom.” And God help me, every friend who calls or visits gets called Auntie or Uncle so-and-so. I can’t help myself.

Those who follow the blog know that I lost Chico just shy of two years old, and Annie passed away a year ago at age 15. I am just beginning to look for a new dog. Not a puppy. I don’t think I can do that again, but a grownup dog friend who will become my family. 

What do you think? Can pets fill in the gaps where don’t have children and make us a family? Tell us about your furbabies–or if the term makes you cringe, tell us why it does? I welcome your comments. 

World Childless Week continues for a few more days. Check the schedule at https://worldchildlessweek.net. As part of the “Childless Elderwomen,” I joined a panel discussion today on friendships and how we have them when our friends are busy with their children. I’ll let you know when the recording is available.

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Obsessing Over Dogs vs. Obsessing Over Children

Sue Fagalde Lick Annie the dog, fur babies, parenting pets, pets instead of children, treating pets like babies , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Photo shows gorgeous all-white puppy with black nose asleep between a wooden chair and a beige wall on a brown hardwood floor.

The tiny dog in the flannel jacket put her paws on my knees. I bent down. “Hi, I’m Aunt Sue,” I said. She licked my face with her tiny tongue. Aww, said everyone at church choir practice.

It was all about dogs last night. I’m not complaining because I adore dogs, and my idea of heaven is to roll around in a pile of dogs. This dog, a puppy, is the newest addition to our church choir family. Her owners don’t feel comfortable leaving her home alone yet.

All of the singers have or have had canine family members. My Annie passed away in September, but I have plenty of stories to contribute. We talked about chewing, biting, barking, random things they have eaten, and places they have snuck into. Earlier in the day, our director’s dog destroyed a box of Q-Tips and scattered them from hither to yon.

Eventually we got around to practicing our songs while the dog continued to flit from one singer to another until her “mom” pulled her up and snuggled her in a blanket in her lap.

As a dog mom, I don’t mind dog talk. But what if I didn’t have dogs? What if I couldn’t have a dog? What if I was a cat person? A few months ago, a singer quit the choir, partially because we were always bringing our dogs to practice and talking nonstop about dogs. She not only didn’t have a dog; she was terrified of them, due to a bad experience when she was younger.

Isn’t it the same way when everyone at a gathering is talking about their children? Maybe they bring a baby or toddler with them, and you sit there feeling left out. We’re always tensed for the questions: How many kids do you have? How old are your children? Do you have any grandchildren yet? You don’t have children? Why not?

Most of our choir members are grandparents, but their families live far away. Besides, we know them, so we can share in the conversation. It would be different if they were in the midst of raising their children instead of dogs.

The National Association of Realtors recently shared census statistics that showed there are more American households with pets than with children. Way more. As of 2022, 40 percent had kids in the home, down from 48 percent in 2002. The Pet Products Association reported that 70 percent of American households own a pet, up from 56 percent in 1968. (The World Animal Foundation says it’s 66 percent.) You can read the whole article for more details, but wow. Birthrates are going down; pet ownership is going up.

Why? For all the reasons people are having fewer children: marrying later if at all, more divorces, easy access to birth control, finances, concerns about the state of the world, physical or emotional challenges, infertility, etc.

Dogs are a big commitment but not as much as a baby, especially once they grow out of the puppy stage. You cannot leave a baby in the backyard and go out to dinner. You can’t take them to a kennel and go on vacation. They need you 24/7. Dogs will never become teenagers who tell you they hate you. They will not grow up and leave you with an empty nest.

Pet ownership has changed over the years, not just in numbers but in how we treat our “fur babies.” Many people I know share their beds with their dogs and cats. In my father’s day, people wouldn’t even let them in the house. They were animals. Now they’re family.

The small towns on the Oregon coast where I live are full of dogs. A little black one “works” at the Waldport library. A poodle named Ruby works the waiting room at my hearing aid place in Newport. A little fur ball greets customers at the Nye Beach bookstore. Our pastor, Fr. Joseph, has two poodles, Allie and Bailey, and is frequently seen walking them on the streets of Waldport. On my walks here in South Beach, I say hello to the neighbor’s Great Pyrenees, Lumin. On the next street, Winnie the Corgi and Bobo the chocolate Lab come running out to walk with me.

I love dogs, and I’m aching to get another one. When I do, I guarantee it will be all about the dog. But I’m beginning to realize we don’t all have and love dogs anymore than we all have and love human children.

What if I was not a dog person and people were incessantly talking about their dogs? Change the language. What if I was not a mom or dad and people were incessantly talking about their children and grandchildren? That’s something most of us have experienced. It hurts.

How about you? Do your pets feel like family? Like children? Like friends? When you’re in a group of people, are they talking about pets or children? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it.

Photo by Tanya Gorelova on Pexels.com

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My childless dog and I face old age together

Sue Fagalde Lick childless dog owners, fur babies, parenting pets , , , , ,
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April 10, 2008

Fred and I adopted two 7-week-old puppies last week, and it really feels as if I have two babies. They’re the same weight as babies, have the same needs, and fill the same needs in my heart. Last night, my church choir surprised me with a puppy shower. There were two baby blankets, but of course no little onesies. I did get dog treats, chew toys galore, balls, wee-wee pads, and lots of advice. There was a gorgeous white-frosted cake with big red flowers on it. This may sound totally nuts, but it felt as if I had received something I’d been waiting for all my life. I sat on the floor of the chapel opening presents and soaking it all in.
As assistant director, I was surprised that there had been a wave of e-mail that didn’t include me. Those sneaky singers.
Puppies are certainly not the same as humans. They won’t take care of you in your old age. Conversations are rather one-sided. And they poop and piddle on the floor. But for the childless woman who wanted children and didn’t have them, they’re one way of filling that emptiness.
Has anyone else found that to be true? What other ways can you feed the maternal need? I’d love to hear your ideas.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is img_20210412_160157704-edited.jpg

I wrote the above in 2008, shortly after my late husband and I adopted 7-week old puppies Chico and Annie. Those dogs took all my attention in those early days. Messy, needy, adorable. They were my babies, or as close as I was going to get.

It was absolutely the wrong time to adopt dogs, especially two at once. My husband’s Alzheimer’s disease had reached the point where I couldn’t leave him alone, and within the year, he would be living in a nursing home. Three years later, in April 2011, he would die. By then, I had just one dog, Annie. I had to give up Chico, prone to jumping fences and attacking other dogs. I have a bite scar on my leg from when I tried to keep him away from a visiting dog. It broke my heart to lose him, but I couldn’t keep coming back from the nursing home to find that he had run away again. I don’t know what happened to him. As in old-fashioned human adoptions, once I signed him over, I gave up all rights.

Now it’s April 2021. My Annie has gone from baby dog to middle-aged to old. She’s stiff with arthritis and loaded with benign fatty lumps. Her once-tan face is now completely white. Instead of saying how cute she is, people comment on how old she is. Some hint that she won’t be with me much longer. I know. That’s the hell of “fur babies.” They don’t live as long as we do. In less than two decades, we watch them go through the entire life cycle from birth to death.

I’m feeling very sad because she has lost her most of her hearing. Yesterday, the vet confirmed there was nothing they could do about it. I wish I could give her my hearing aids. I know what it’s like not to be able to hear. Both of my parents had severe hearing losses, and my hearing isn’t great anymore. Even yesterday at the vet, trying to communicate from the parking lot (COVID restrictions), I had to admit to the technician that with all the traffic noise in the background, I couldn’t hear what she was saying, even though the phone was turned all the way up. She came out to talk in person.

Annie doesn’t hear me coming and going anymore. She curls up in the doorway so she can watch me and know where I am. She doesn’t respond to verbal commands. I try to use gestures now. She mostly understands. I talk to Annie all the time—since Fred died, she’s the only one here to talk to—but now I know she can’t hear me, and that breaks my heart. She is still my beloved companion, and I thank God for her every day.

I know I should be writing about you and your childless by marriage situation. I will get back to that, but I know that for many of you, your pets are part of the family. Feel free to tell us about them. With Mother’s Day coming very soon, we all need a dose of kitten or puppy love.

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No, my dog is not my child substitute

Sue Fagalde Lick Annie the dog, dogs as child substitutes, fur babies, Uncategorized , , , , ,

Annie 9215AAnnie turned 11 this month. My dog, the blonde in the picture up above, has been my companion since my late husband Fred and I adopted her and her brother Chico at seven weeks. She weighed six pounds, the same as I weighed when I was born. She was a baby then. Now Chico is gone (long story, click here), and Annie is an old dog. Her muzzle has turned white, her knees are held together with plates and screws, and she’s covered with fatty lumps. In dog years, she’s older than I am now. We only have a few years left, if we’re lucky.

Is Annie my baby, my child, a substitute for the children I never had? No. There are occasions when I get called her mom, times when I might even call myself that, but her mother was a dog, not a human like me. Although we understand each other very well, we don’t speak the same language. I am responsible for her care, but she will not grow up and become an independent adult who might carry on my name and my traditions. She will not drive me to the hospital when something goes wrong. She is a dog.

We are partners in our life here in the woods. Together, we cope with the snow, rain and occasional sun. We eat together and we snuggle on the love seat while I write, watch videos or talk on the phone. She takes me on a walk through the woods every day, rain or shine around 3:00. She knows that’s when I’m ready to leave my desk. We know each other’s ways and rhythms. But she is not my child.

Annie will eat poop, plastic, pens, and paper clips if I don’t stop her. She wakes me up when the thunder scares her. She insists on constant belly rubs. She won’t let me eat without sharing. But she’s a lot less annoying than some people. Plus she’s always up for a hug, and she thinks I’m wonderful. How many 11-year-old humans are that agreeable?

I know there are people who consider dogs and cats their fur babies. I wrote about them in my Childless by Marriage book. Some go so far as to dress them in coats and sweaters and push them in baby strollers. They give birthday parties for their pets. I don’t do that with Annie.

Do I tell Annie she’s the best dog in the world? All the time. Do I tell her I love her? Constantly. Do I take her outside and make sure she goes potty? Every day. But she is not my child. She’s something different but equally wonderful. She is my friend, and I thank God for her.

Annie 82517A.jpg

What is your relationship with your animals? Are they your children? Do they make up for not having them? Do your parents accept them as “grandchildren?”

Kitty purrs and puppy kisses for Christmas

Sue Fagalde Lick antlers on dogs, Christmas gifts for pets, dressing dogs, fur babies, gift-wrapping kitty, kitty purrs, pet names on Christmas cards, puppy kisses, treating pets like babies


My friend’s dog just died. He’s heartbroken. He took this dog everywhere with him, just adored her. He and his wife have human children and grandchildren who all live far away. In recent years, the dog was their baby. Now instead of celebrating Christmas, all he wants to do is cry. As a dog mom, I know how he feels.
For many of us, our dogs and cats are our only babies, and we treat them that way. Some people go overboard. I always feel sorry for the pets forced to wear reindeer antlers or jingle bells. That can’t be comfortable. Of course there are those folks who also dress their dogs and cats in velvet and fake-fur hats and coats or Christmas sweaters for the holidays.
Have you seen the YouTube video of the cat being wrapped like a Christmas present? You’ll laugh, I promise.You may also be tempted to watch the many other offerings there. They’re funny but also true.
How many of us hang up Christmas stockings for our fur babies or put gifts for them under the tree? Surveys have shown that nearly half of us give our pets wrapped gifts for their birthdays and Christmas. I actually don’t. My dog Annie tends to eat everything I give her, whether it’s food or not. Also, I don’t think she likes Christmas. I’m gone too much, and our schedule is all out of whack. But I know plenty of people whose pets are on the gift list.
Most of us consider our pets part of the family. But how far does that go? Do you put your pets’ names on your Christmas cards? For me, it depends on whether or not the recipient knows Annie, but there’s something about being able to write down multiple names that makes it feel more like a family. For a while in my younger days, I secretly hoped some people would see the name on my card and think I had had a baby. They didn’t need to know it was a dog.
How about you? Do you give your pets presents, dress them up for Christmas or include their names in their holiday greetings?
Bonus question: Does your family think you’re nuts?
Thank you for reading my blog and sharing your lives with me all these years. May your holidays be full of kitty purrs and puppy kisses.

Puppy love is the best

Sue Fagalde Lick dog moms, dog named Harley, fur babies, puppies instead of children, puppy shower
This is my baby Annie when she was just a couple months old.

At my first sight of Harley, I melted. Is there anything cuter than a Labrador retriever puppy? I don’t think so, but my dog is half Lab, so I’m biased. My across-the-street neighbors adopted Harley a few weeks ago. Their beloved cat Toby had disappeared, probably killed by a coyote or other local predator. The husband, Pat, swore they would not get any more cats. It’s too dangerous for them out here. He had always been a dog person anyway. And the wife, Paula, tried to go along with it, but she says the hole in her life was just too big. She didn’t have any kids, and she needed something to fill that need to nurture. So they got Harley.

Harley is cream colored, about eight weeks old now, small enough to carry around like a baby, soft and cuddly, but his massive feet promise that he’s going to be a big dog when he grows up. His bark is just a squeak. He’s learning about the world around him. Paula is already training him, taking him for short walks on a long blue leash and taking him to work with her every day. They are bonding like every mother and child.

Five and a half years ago, I had two baby dogs, Annie and Chico. My memories of that time are a blur of piddle, poop and chewed up furniture, papers, toys, and shoes. They were adorable. I took tons of pictures and wrapped my life around those dogs. They were my babies. My friends even threw me a puppy shower, complete with cake and presents. It was a beautiful and exhausting thing. And I’m glad it’s over. Raising babies, whether they have four legs or two, is hard work. I don’t want to do it again.

But oh, like those women who gush over human babies, I turn into a baby-talking mess when I see puppies, and I’m full of advice for the new “moms.” I’m rarely impressed by people’s baby pictures of little humans. They’re kind of funny-looking really. But puppy pictures, oh yes, I can’t get enough.

Like me, Paula married an older man, and she does not have children. But now she has Harley. I think we’ll be spending a lot more time together.

Is a dog a real substitute for a child? Probably not. But there’s nothing like a puppy to ease the pain.