Simba. Simba Limba. Simba Limba Lou. Simba Limba Louie. Limba. Louie.
Our pomeranian, Simba, was given his name by my son, who was, no doubt, influenced by how much his mane resembled that of the "Lion King"'s chief character. Then it went through an odd metamorphosis, and I admit, it was all my doing.
But it didn't stop there. My wife, for reasons unbeknownst to me, began to call him Fur-Kid. Which soon became Furry. Which, in turn, became Fur-Fur. She uses all of these interchangably with each other as well as with the Simba mutation.
I most often refer to him as "the dog".
When he was given to us about 7 years ago I was against the idea of having a dog. It wasn't so much that dogs were too much trouble to keep...but a lot of love gets invested in a pet, and more often than not they begin to be considered as "one of the family".
With all the love that these critters get showered with it is only natural that their masters grow attached to them to a great degree. It is a strong bond, not quite as strong as family ties, but up there in that realm.
So, the death of a pet is a traumatic experience of sorts. If you've ever had a pet...as a child, or maybe later in your life...then you know what I'm talking about. It's heartbreaking when you lose one.
That's why I didn't want a pet. I dread the thought of going through with that again. Once was enough.
The intention was to give our son a pet dog to call his own. And Limba is HIS dog, for all intents and purposes. However, he became very attached to my wife, as she had more time to spend with him than my son, who was off doing something new every time you turned around to look for him. She would not say that Fur-Kid is "her dog"...but she's the one that he pines for when they are gone.
As for me...I resisted becoming attached to Louie for a long time. Years, though he slowly but surely grew in my affections. Now I'm sure I would be in tears if he were to die on us. Not only that, but I think it would be even harder for me to see the way it would affect my wife and son. I do not look forward to that day, I can assure you.
Simba hasn't died on us. But he has been sick for a couple of weeks now. Pretty bad sick, I would say. Two different vets have given us two different diagnoses. Pancreatitis (I think it's called) was one opinion. I don't even know what the other vet said. They took some of his blood for analysis so I imagine we'll know more tomorrow or the next day.
Seeing him like this makes me realize how important he has become to me and my family. He is a very good dog, though he gets loud and rowdy when visitors show up. He's very protective of the wife and son. And he's a cute little fellar.
I have a feeling that, when he does pass away (hopefully several years from now), I will have changed my mind about the drawbacks of having a pet. That memories of him will bring back good thoughts instead of sorrow that would cause me to never want to have a pet again (although, for different reasons, I won't want another).
It's just like Bill Shakespeare said, "'Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."
Today he seems to be feeling a little bit better, so hopefully that "lost" part won't come into play any time soon.
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