A pet is never just a pet—they are family. They greet us with joy no matter how tired we are, love us without question, and grow old by our side. Their loyalty never wavers; their devotion never fades. Yet, some see them as replaceable—as if love has an expiration date, as if age or frailty makes them less worthy of our hearts.
To give a pet away or trade them for something “newer” or “younger” isn’t simply a choice. It is a mirror that reflects the kind of love we’ve given—or failed to give. Our pets do not abandon us when we grow older, weaker, or slower; they remain steadfast companions until their last breath. Shouldn’t we honor that same loyalty in return?
Losing Indy to a snake’s bite was devastating. The pain of that day still feels sharp, like an open wound that time hasn’t yet soothed. But when I think of her life, I also think of the way she loved us, the way she stayed by our side without hesitation or judgment. And strangely, I find a small measure of comfort in believing that maybe, just maybe, that snake was a messenger of mercy.
Perhaps it took her from this world before someone could ever “upgrade” her, before she could feel the sting of being unwanted or replaced. Instead, she is in a far better place now, free from pain and fear, running through endless fields where loyalty and love are eternal.
Indy’s absence is heavy, but her love lingers in every quiet corner of our home, in every memory she left behind. She reminds me that loyalty is not a thing we trade for convenience, and love is not something to outgrow. Pets teach us that real devotion doesn’t age, doesn’t falter, and doesn’t fade. It is up to us to prove we’re worthy of that love.
So here’s to Indy—a loyal friend, a faithful soul, and family in every sense of the word. She may no longer walk beside us, but she has left pawprints that time can never erase. And one day, when I cross that bridge of light and color, I hope to see her running toward me, tail wagging, heart whole, and love unending.
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