We'll always have some kind of pet.

Hear, O children of memory and companionship, the words of Karen Pence, who declared: “We’ll always have some kind of pet.” Though simple in sound, these words bear the fragrance of devotion, of continuity, and of the deep bond between humankind and the creatures that share their hearths. It is not merely a statement of preference, but a promise, a recognition that life feels more whole when lived in the company of another soul, whether furred, feathered, or scaled.

The pet is no mere animal. It is the mirror of loyalty, the bearer of comfort, the silent keeper of our joys and sorrows. To say “we will always have one” is to say that no matter what changes life brings, the heart will not forsake this bond. Generations have known this truth: the child finds his first friend in a dog, the elder whispers secrets to a cat by the fire, the lonely soul finds song in the chatter of a bird. The pet is both anchor and balm, grounding us in love that asks for little yet gives without measure.

This declaration also speaks to continuity across time. Seasons may change, children may leave home, fortunes may rise and fall—but there will always be a place for a pet. It is a reminder that companionship is not bound only to humans, but is a gift woven into the very fabric of creation. Even in ancient civilizations, men and women cherished animals: the Egyptians worshiped cats, the Mongols rode with their horses as brothers in battle, the Greeks honored their hunting dogs as loyal companions. Always, in some form, there has been “some kind of pet.”

Consider, O listener, the tale of Alexander the Great and his horse Bucephalus. As a youth, Alexander tamed the mighty steed when no other dared to mount him, and from that day onward, Bucephalus carried him through wars and conquests across the known world. When the horse died, Alexander wept and built a city in his honor. Here we see that the bond with a pet is not trivial; it is sacred. It may inspire loyalty, courage, and acts that echo through history.

The meaning of Pence’s words is clear: to keep a pet is to keep alive the softer side of our humanity. In the rush of duty, in the storms of politics or the demands of daily life, the companionship of a creature brings us back to tenderness, to gentleness, to love without condition. To vow that “we will always have one” is to vow never to let the world harden the heart so much that it forgets the joy of simple bonds.

The lesson for you, O child of tomorrow, is this: never neglect companionship, whether in the form of human friendship or the trust of an animal. The presence of a pet in your home is more than decoration—it is a living reminder of patience, responsibility, and affection. A pet teaches constancy, for it depends on you each day. A pet teaches presence, for it delights not in tomorrow’s plans, but in the now. And above all, a pet teaches love that is quiet, enduring, and unearned.

Practical action follows: if your life allows, open your home to “some kind of pet.” Care for it, learn from it, and let it soften the edges of your heart. If you cannot, then at least honor and protect the creatures of the world, for they, too, are companions in the great journey of life. In cherishing them, you preserve the bond that has tied mankind to creation since the dawn of time.

Therefore, remember Pence’s words not as casual speech, but as sacred vow: always keep a place for companionship. Whether it be the wag of a dog’s tail, the purr of a cat, the song of a bird, or even the stillness of a fish, let it remind you that life is richer, warmer, and truer when shared. For in caring for another creature, we are reminded of our own humanity, and in their eyes, we often glimpse the reflection of the love we seek to give and receive.