There are two kinds of people in the animal world in the United States, people with pets, and people with animals, mostly farm animals.

The two sides have radically different views about animals, and each one thinks the other is crazy, indulgent, or cruel and cold.

We live in a country obsessed with labels, and when we label one another, it’s very often not kindly.

The differences between the two groups are significant; they range from money and cost to euthanasia when necessary.

It is an impulse to keep animals alive as long as possible, no matter the cost. I know pet people who equate the cost of owning a dog or cat alive with how much they are loved. I don’t see it that way.

Sometimes, the most moving thing one can do to a dog or cat is to put them down. The same applies to animals on a farm.

We are bludgeoned here into a reality that brooks no denial or dissent. This is a place of life and death; both are equally important.

Maria and I are unusual. We live on the borderline between these two groups. Our dogs are pets, and we treat them in that way.

They get regular health care, one-on-one training; we take them to vets when they need to be killed. They get tons of love and attention.

The farm animals, not so much. Maria is closer to them than I am these days, but I love the donkeys dearly and visit them several times a day.

I believe it is my moral duty to shoot our farm animals when they are very sick and can’t recover.

We call vets only in extreme emergencies; we can’t afford to call them every time a farm animal is sick.

When one of our dogs is sick, we call the vet immediately, follow her instructions, and often spend hundreds of dollars on treatment. When the bill goes higher than that, we stop and reconsider, no matter how much we love the dog.

I don’t believe in keeping dogs alive beyond their natural state out of selfishness. And I don’t believe in spending thousands of dollars on a dog’s health care.

Dogs are not about bankrupting or ruining people.

That’s not what having a dog is about for me.

Maria and I have both evolved living together on our farm. Farms are all about life and death. Here, I’ve pulled lambs out of their strongling mothers’ bellies and shot a bunch when they got seriously ill.

It is dangerous to have sick animals around on a farm, especially when we don’t know what is causing the sickness.

Maria is as quick to agree to end an animal’s suffering as I am. We both are stewards. We speak for our animals and do what is best for them, not us.

We could lose all of our animals in a flash if sickness were contagious. So we give a sheep about a week to heal and then go and fetch the rifle.

Maria has to agree; no animal dies without the agreement of both of us – no pressure, no arguing, we each have absolute veto power over the death of any of our animals.

The relationships with the dogs and any pet are, by definition, more intimate. They live with us, ride around with us, sleep on the bed with us, doze at our feet while we read or eat or talk.

We love our donkeys and are close to our sheep, but we never spend more than a few minutes with them, and they will never come into our home.

A farm is expensive and complicated; it is not one thing but many things.

There are issues with water, old barns, leaky roofs, mud and manure, fences and poisoned weeds, coyotes and other predators,  hay and grain. Large animal vet bills are always huge – pet vet bills are catching up.

Some farmers are wealthy and farm for fun. They are called Gentlemen Farmers. It’s not a term I use or like.

Most farmers – us – are not wealthy and have always thought of how we can keep the farm going broke and the animals healthy. We are not a rescue farm; we can’t afford that.

Our animals all have a function – the donkeys are guard animals, the sheep provide Maria the yarn that she sells. The donkeys are here to guard the sheep.

I had herding dogs until Red died, but I’ve moved on from that work, as much as I loved it.

The dogs have it the easiest: they get the best care, eat the best food, get to come inside when it’s cold, get shelter from the sun when it’s hot, have fresh water in their bowls day and night.

Tomorrow, Zinnia goes to the vet for her heart room tests and several hundred dollars worth of worms and other pills. It’s worth every penny to keep her from heartworm or some of the other worms that nearly killed Red.

It is a gift to live on this line. It would be a great boon to dogs and other animals if the pet people, animals, and animal rights people all got together to help the vanishing animals stay in our world.

We ought to be on the same side, but we are human, so that is often a pipedream.

We can talk to both sides and understand both sides. When I have to kill an animal, I get a lot of outraged, shocked, and angry messages.

But more and more, over time, my readers have come to understand the different rules and traditions most of these animals live under.

We have one rule for all animals here: we do the best we can for as long as we can. It’s that simple.

This farm is a place of life, but death is a part of life, and we have come to accept that. We don’t cry much for our lost animals; we miss them. We are strong for it, our understanding of animals sharper and more profound.