Having a pet imposes morally accountability upon a person, the life of a pet is in one’s hands. When I took my husky Isis to the emergency vet in 2016, she was in such rough shape that I thought I might need to choose to end her suffering that night.

While some dismiss philosophy as valueless in real life, my experience as a philosopher was useful in dealing with the decline of my beloved husky. Having studied and taught ethics, I learned a great deal that helped me frame the choices I had to face

When I brought Isis to the emergency vet, I knew that it would be expensive. When the vet showed me the proposed bill, I was not surprised it was around $600. I am lucky enough to have a decent job and fortunate enough to have made it through the last time the rich wrecked the American economy. While worried about her, I also worried about people who are less well-off yet love their pets as much as I do. They could face a terrible choice between medical care for their pet and having the money for some other essential expenses, such as their own medical care. Or they might not have enough money and hence cannot even make a choice. The Big Beautiful Bill will make this even worse and I am sure that pets will be among the many indirect victims of that act of political cruelty.

Since there are many systems of ethics, there are many ways to approach the moral decision of costly (in money or time) pet care. The most calculating is a utilitarian approach: weighing the costs and benefits to determine what would create the greatest utility. In my case, I could afford such care and the good for my husky vastly outweighed the cost to me. So, the utilitarian calculation was easy for me.

Others are not so lucky, and they will face a difficult choice that requires weighing the well-being of their pet against the cost to them. While it is easy enough to say that a person should always take care of her pet, people have other moral obligations, such as to their children and themselves. In addition to the ethics of making the decision, there is also the moral matter of having a society in which people are forced to make such hard decisions because they have been denied the financial resources to address the challenges they face. While some might say that those who cannot afford pets should not have pets (something also said about children), that is just another evil. While I would not say that people have a right to pets as they have a right to life and liberty, a system that gives rise to such a view is an unjust system. Naturally, some might still insist that pets are a luxury, like adequate education, health care and basic nutrition.

Another approach is to set aside the cold calculations of utility and make the decision based on an ethics of duty and obligation.  Having a pet is analogous to having a child: the choice creates a set of moral duties and obligations. Part of the foundation of these obligations is that the pet cannot make their own decisions and cannot care for themselves. As such, taking an animal as a pet is to accept the role of a decision maker and a caretaker.

An analogy can also be drawn to accepting a contract for a job: the job requires certain things and accepting the job entails accepting those requirements. In the case of a pet, there are many obligations, and the main one is assuming responsibility for their well-being. This is why choosing to have a pet is such a serious decision and should not be entered into lightly.

One reason having a pet should not be taken lightly is that the duty to the pet imposes an obligation to make sacrifices for the well-being of the pet. This can include going without sleep, cleaning up messes and making the hard decision about the end of life. There are, of course, limits to all obligations and working out exactly what one owes a pet is a moral challenge. There are certainly some minimal obligations that a person must accept, or they should not have a pet. These include providing for the basic physical and emotional needs of the pet. The moral discussion becomes more complicated when the obligations impose greater burdens.

When Isis was at her low point, she could barely walk. I had to carry her outside and support her while she struggled to do her business. When I picked her up, I would say “up, up and away!” When carrying her, I would say “wooosh” so she would think she was flying. This made us both feel a little better.

 She could not stand to eat or drink and had little appetite. So, I had to hold her water bowl up for her so she could drink and make special foods to hand feed her.  I found that she would eat chicken and rice processed into a paste—provided I slathered it with peanut butter and let her lick it from my palm. At night, she would cry with pain, and I would be there to comfort her, getting by on a few hours of sleep. Sometimes she would not be able to make it outside, and there would be a mess to clean up.

I did all this for two reasons. The first is, of course, love. The second is duty. My moral obligation to my husky required me to do all this for her because she is my dog. If I did not do all this for her, I would be a worse person and, while I can bear cleaning up diarrhea at 3:23 in the morning, I cannot bear being a worse person.

I am no moral saint and I admit that this was difficult (though it obviously pales in comparison with what other people have faced). It did not reach my limits, though I know I have them. Sorting out the ethics of these limits is a significant moral matter. First, there is the moral question of how far one’s obligations go. That is, determining how far you are morally obligated to go. Second, there is the moral question of how far you can go before your obligations break you. After all, each person also has duties to herself that are as important as obligations to others.

In my case, I accepted that my obligations included all that I mentioned above. While doing all this was exhausting me (I was dumping instant coffee mix into protein shakes to get through teaching my classes), Isis recovered before my obligations broke me. But I had to give serious thought to how long I would be able to sustain this level of care before I could not go on anymore. I am glad I did not have to find out.