I usually end my column by saying "pets make you smile (and sometimes they make you cry)". Today I am going to start my column with that line. Days ago I received an email with the subject "Puccini". Before I opened it I knew what it was going to say and sadly, I was right. I used to work at the former store in Broad Ripple, on Westfield Boulevard, called Turandot. It was named after the Opera written by the Italian composer Giacomo Puccini. The Puccini mentioned here was the dog of the owner, Lisa. He was a wonderful English Spaniel. She had written to tell us all that he had died from cancer at age 12 on October 9th. Puccini had been a significant part of Lisa's life and a staple at the store. It was Puccini who interviewed me first when I went in to apply for the job. I had been told to go upstairs to the office. He was waiting at the top of the stairs, barking his hello and showing me his toys. I guess I was approved because I was there for the next two years. He would come to work daily with Lisa. Most would not have seen him as he was upstairs. He was a good friend to us all. Her email detailed his surprising departure and her grief. It made me cry.

Oddly on the same day another good friend lost his cat, also 12 years old, also to cancer. He had had a diagnosis for several weeks. The cat was a black and white tuxedo type named Jackson, owned by my friend Scott. Through this long month and a half I saw the joy drain from Scott. Jackson was his special pet who sat in his office while he worked. He was a wonderful companion. He stayed home from events to be with Jackson until the end. This loss tore him up.

I remember the day I took my cat to the doctor and learned that he had cancer. I made the decision on the spot to put him down. I didn't want him to suffer or to drag it out. I stood in the parking lot on my cell phone calling my husband asking him to please leave work and meet me at home so we could bury him immediately. He got home before I did and had started digging. His boss had given him a rough time asking if it was really necessary to leave work for such a thing. But I had been sobbing horribly and he didn't think twice. Some people don't get it. Others do entirely. There is a whole funeral business devoted to our family pets. The key word here is "family" because they are. They make us whole. They brighten our days, they love us unconditionally. Dogs become members of society as therapy dogs, search and rescue dogs, police dogs, guard dogs, service dogs and companions. Cats relax us and curl up with us. They keep mice away. They make us laugh when they play. So when these noble friends leave us we are left with an empty hole and the grief is real. Most all of us remember losing a pet. It is devastating.

To both of my friends I urged them to consider adopting a new pet to fill the void. It is therapeutic. It might not be their time to do so but the animals are waiting on borrowed time. Lisa says she will spread Puccini's ashes in Brown County where they have a home and where he romped. My dog came from the Brown County Humane Society. She ended her email with..... "So, shoot. It is the way of things. Unfortunately, grief does have a way of throwing a wide net, does it not?" Rest in peace dear Puccini and Jackson. You were special friends to my special friends.