Kids These Days:

If your son, daughter or spouse got cancer, you would do everything in your power to beat the disease. But what about your dog or cat? What about your hamster?

In February, I wrote about our cat, Kisa, and a lump that appeared on her back. The discussion was about the dedication we should have to our pets in their time of need.

Kisa had minor surgery to remove the lump, which was benign. But what if it had been malignant? What if we were faced with spending thousands of dollars that would otherwise have gone to a college fund?

Is a pet’s life to be valued the same as that of a spouse or sibling?

In February, I wrote about Nick, a dog who is the “son” of Kathy Wortham of Costa Mesa, who was undergoing treatments to beat his prostate cancer.

Nick was a Newfoundland, a big dog with a big personality. A gentle giant, Nick was returned to his breeder by his original owner, a single mom with three boys. Caring for Nick had become a burden because it was like adding three more boys to her family.

Unfortunately, the mom’s way of dealing with Nick was to leave him outside and ignore him.

Enter Kathy. Driving hundreds of miles to meet Nick and the breeder, Kathy signed for him sight unseen. Mothers of human children do that, too — there is no screening process to see if the eyes, nose or chin are perfect; we just take what we get.

Kathy took him home, no questions asked. Even though Nick was bigger and more independent than Kathy may have wanted, she still gave him the attention he never had. When Kathy traveled, he stayed at home, never at a kennel, and was looked after by his “Aunt Dora” or another friend.

Nick, you see, was Kathy’s family.

Nick and Kathy became inseparable. And as much as anyone who knew them would say that Nick was so fortunate to have Kathy as his mom, Kathy would tell you how much meaning he brought to her life as well.

Then Nick got cancer. For Kathy, there was no question about what to do and no second-guessing once the decision was made: Nick was going to have the best treatment available, wherever it was and whatever it cost.

For Kathy and Nick, that meant regular visits to San Diego for therapy. It meant a life on hold, but isn’t that what parents do?

“Nick is my child,” Kathy told me at the time.

All through the treatments, as rough and painful as they sometimes were, Nick maintained an attitude that most humans could never assume. Through it all, he was his loving, playful self.

Nick seemed to stabilize, even improve. Then, just a few days ago, the cancer got the best of him, and he died.

Kathy spent what some would consider a lot of money to try to heal Nick. Most of us would have bailed on a pet long before Kathy wrote her last check.

But Nick was family.

For others, the decision may have been different. For the family struggling from the recession, or the family faced with previous medical bills or trying to save for their child’s college education, the decision may have been to put the pet to sleep.

We almost faced these decisions with Kisa.

But Nick was family.

You may have your definition of family, and that probably means a mother, father and kids.

By accepting pets into our homes, we make a commitment for a lifetime, whether it’s theirs or ours. Pets are not furniture, not items to be returned if they are not a good match.

They may be a different type of family, but they are family nonetheless.

STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and a freelance writer. Send story ideas to [email protected] .