Unpopular opinion: I love my pets less since I had children

"Now, if I had to choose where I spent my energy, it would be on my kids, not my pets."

"I still love my pets, but the way that I love them pales into insignificance compared to my actual babies."

Lily and Wolfy were the start of a lifelong love of animals, but they weren’t the end of it. Only two years later, my beloved childhood dog, Indi, came into our lives. I only had one sibling growing up, but my childhood memories are full of those pets, who I loved like my brothers and sisters (sometimes more, if my human brother were being particularly annoying). 

Since then, I have spent only one short, bleak year without a pet - the first year I lived out of home. As soon as I could afford to move into a pet-friendly apartment, I did, and so did my own pair of Tonkinese cats. And once we moved into our own home, so did our gorgeous Spoodle, Wally. 

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For 22 years, I loved nothing more than those cats and those dogs (with apologies to my now-husband). I cuddled them and cared for them and played with them. I slept with them, grieved with them, relied on them. My camera roll was wall-to-wall caramel-coloured cats sleeping in cute positions and black-and-white puppy with his tongue lolling out. I never spared an expense on prescription food or grooming or trips to the vet.

When I arrived home after a long day at work, it was a walk with the dog and a cup of tea in bed with the cats that was guaranteed to lift my spirits. If the fire alarm went off in our building, even when I was absolutely sure it was a false alarm, I loaded the cats up into their carrier and carted them down eleven flights of fire-escape stairs, just in case. 

I considered them, without question, members of my family. 

I loved them like they were my babies. 

And then I had a baby. 

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Image: Supplied

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"I still love my pets, but..."

There’s a bit of a taboo around saying you never knew love before you had a baby, but in my experience it’s the truth. When my sons were born, my concept of what love could be exploded. 

I used to think it was a joke when people said they would die for someone, but I realise now that it is literal truth: in the event of a car crash, my husband is under the strictest instructions to rescue my boys first and pull me out of the wreckage only once they are safe.

With no exaggeration for dramatic effect, I would do anything for my sons. I want them to be okay more than I want myself, or any other person (or animal) on earth, to be okay. It is as complex, and as simple, as that. 

I still love my pets, but the way that I love them pales into insignificance in comparison to the way I love my children. I still want to care for them, but my bandwidth to do so has severely diminished. And if I’m perfectly honest, the things that I used to love doing for them aren’t always quite so enjoyable now.

On some days, I resent the prospect of walking the dog and changing the kitty litter on top of absolutely everything required for a just-turned-two-year-old and a six-month-old baby.

If I had to choose where I spent my energy, it would be on my kids, not my pets. 

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"I would leave my cats behind in a heartbeat"

To be clear: all three of my animals are doing just fine. They’re happy and healthy, and when they aren’t, we take steps to fix it.  But their happiness, which used to be my top priority, is now somewhere in the middle of my very long list of people to care for and things to do. 

When discussing my shifting perception of my love for my pets with my friends, their responses usually fall into one of two categories. On the one hand, I’m a monster for daring to love my pets any less than I did on the day I first fell in love with them. I made a commitment when they came into our family and holding up my end of the bargain means that my emotions towards them should never change. 

On the other hand, I’m a monster for even considering loving my pets as much as my kids. Pets are animals and children are human beings! Why are we even discussing this?

Although being an animal-lover is still very strongly part of my identity, I lean towards the latter view. Not least because my human children would probably be rightly concerned to find out that I love them the same amount as a miniature Spoodle (no matter how much of a good boy he might be). 

And the truth is, in the event of a fire alarm, I would leave my cats behind in a heartbeat if it meant getting my boys out safely. 

I mean, of course I would. I can’t believe I even need to say it. They’re my children. 

And at the end of the day, my pets… are just pets. 

Really good pets. Beloved pets. The cutest, smartest, sweetest, best ever pets. 

But just pets. 

Originally published as Unpopular opinion: I love my pets less since I had children