I’m not a mom. When I was a little girl my vision of the future always started with the phrase “When I grow up and get married and have kids.” But the only part that came true was I grew up.
And every year around now I reevaluate the choices I’ve made. Mother’s Day is insidiously everywhere – you can’t go anywhere, listen to anything, look at any media without mention of it. And I realize, once again, that if I’d truly wanted children, I would have found a way.
Teddy
Here in the 21st century we know where kids come from and there are lots of options for getting one of your very own.
I recently read a blog post from a much younger woman who has decided, rather defiantly, that she doesn’t want children. That’s fine. Her choice. But she goes on to say that her dogs are her “children” and is rather belligerent in defense of that notion.
I love my dogs. I love spending time with them, playing with them, training them, cuddling them, just hanging out with them. I’ve made some of my dearest friends through dog-related activities. But they’re not my children.
I’m responsible for every aspect of my dogs’ lives throughout their lives, however long I’m 
blessed with their presence. Their health, feeding, housing is all up to me. They’ll never grow up, get a job and move out.
Years ago, when our family owned a bookstore, we had a resident cat. A customer accused us of spoiling him rotten – as he was lying on the counter, purring. Another customer, who was a charter member of the Merlyn The Bookstore Cat’s fan club, glared at her and declared “It’s not like he has to grow up and be a responsible taxpayer!”
And that’s been my excuse ever since for spoiling my pets. And they make me smile every day.
