Current technology allows people to culture genetic samples from pets who have died in the hopes of one day cloning an offspring of that same animal.  Because environmental and other conditions determine the disposition and personality of animals, such a procedure does not guarantee an exact duplicate of the original except genetically.

When faced with those who decide upon such an endeavor, I am forced to wonder precisely what might compel someone to make such a decision.  Are there not enough animals euthanized around the globe to warrant saving one at a time when emotional turmoil from previous loss is sufficiently rendered manageable?  Is not the uniqueness of a pet’s personality worth protecting the memory and legacy from violations such as a feeble attempt to recreate them?  Are departed pets not worthy of memorialization rather than scientific experimentation?

I realize we may, at a time in the future, perfect the technology that would allow successful cloning of such genetic souvenirs.  I also realize, and certainly have preached the same thing from this very pulpit on many occasions, that my pets are my children and suffering the loss of one of them is a heartrending experience that has and will again leave me distraught and emotionally wounded.  How then could I justify any selfish move intended to duplicate that animal in any way?

Attempts to explain it as gaining an offspring of the original are lacking.  Again I ask, what of the thousands put to death every single day?  To explain it as nothing more than hope for a future time is disingenuous at best.  Was the original not worthy of respect in person and form?

Each of my pets enjoys a full life and irrefutable love and care.  Each wants for nothing (except, perhaps, and only according to them, more of my time and less of that work thing).  They have siblings with whom they play and sleep and share a home, and they have a parent who will gladly sacrifice in great quantity to ensure their well-being, who will face perdition’s flames and travel to the ends of the universe so that they might enjoy a safe and reliable home free of stress and concerns.  When the time comes for them to forsake this physical world and bring to an end their experiences in this life, I can not imagine diminishing that in any way, including belief in whatever promises technological wizardry may make for the hope of one day enjoying the company of a companion generated from the original.

My life has been enriched to an infinite degree by those animals I have rescued, each offering a new form of overwhelming joy and happiness previously unbeknownst to me.  Each of them in turn deserves to be remembered for their uniqueness and singular personality, for the life they lived in absolute carefree abandon.  And each of them leaves me the legacy of knowing they wanted for naught and were blessed with the true definition of living.

It is an affront to their very lives to believe it possible somehow to regain part of that magic by cheaply copying the original.  Anthropomorphization notwithstanding, am I wrong to assume that were they capable of voicing such an opinion they would seek to encourage me to grant to another animal the same opportunity with which they were gifted?  Could I somehow do justice to their memory by forsaking others in need of rescue and a loving home only to satisfy a personal desire to hopefully recapture some small measure of the mystery and miracle we once shared?

I won’t deny that a part of me yearns for the company of Henry, Arco, Sebastian, Heathrow, Bear, Fritz, Bugsy, and a great many other pets lost to the sands in the hourglass.  Who among us can claim that such is not true for them regarding a beloved pet long since gone?  Despite this innate desire to save that which can not possibly be saved, a trait all humans share, it denigrates the living and dying already in the past to think myself so important that I might play god in some way with the very loved one I swore to protect.

No, poppets, I would not clone a pet.  I could not in good conscious do justice to their memory by engaging in such a self-interested activity.  I suspect my children appreciate all that they have and the opportunity with which they were presented when I rescued them.  I also suspect they would wish for me to give that same opportunity to another animal after their life has run its course.

I can never duplicate them.  It’s impossible, although copying their genetic form is not.  If I can not make them eternally mine, what other than hubris and selfishness would make me want to corrupt the beautiful memories with which they have blessed me in the hopes of seizing yet more time from the presence of a family member who has already died?

Let them rest.  Let their memory be enough to satisfy whatever needs may exist.  Let his or her legacy be that you find it within your heart to bring another homeless animal into your life so that they might be loved and nurtured and live fully.