It's funny how important pets can become in one's life.

I've been thinking more about this crazy obsession the last few weeks after Marge and I had to have our beloved Blackie put to sleep.

She was in our family for 17 years. That's about the time it takes a human baby to be born, grow up, graduate from high school, and move away from home.

When I wrote an earlier column about pampered pets, I quoted an anonymous customer of Des Moines' Soggy Doggy, who declared, "When I consider the joy that I got from spending dollars on my kid to the joy I get spending dollars on my dog, the dog beats the kid every time."

I certainly wouldn't say that about my two sons, but they also didn't jump up and greet me in the hall when I came home from work.

The shrinking of the family unit may explain the increased focus on pets.

According to a Pew Research Center poll, household chore sharing has replaced having children as the third most important factor in a happy marriage.

Americans spent $31 billion on their pets in 2004. It is estimated we will spend $40 billion in 2007 and $1 billion by 2009.

Doggy day care and other animal services abound in the Highline area. Another pet hotel just opened near Sea-Tac International Airport.

The Neiman-Marcus Christmas catalog pictured a gold-leaf facade neo-classical dog house priced at $9,400.

And just on the market are implants for male dogs to help them-and their owners-recover from the psychological trauma of neutering.

We didn't go that far for Blackie but we sure pampered her.

I've been around cats all my life and have "owned" a string of black cats as an adult, but none of them had as much personality as Blackie.

We did have an auxiliary cat named Grey for a while, but she was, frankly, pretty boring.

(My son Brian observes it is a good thing Marge and I didn't have a kid because we would have named him "Whitey.")

Soft-hearted Marge got Blackie from her boss who was fighting cancer. Cat scratches were particularly dangerous for her.

Blackie loved scratching people. She would purr loudly while drawing blood, earning the nickname "Blackula."

In her younger days, she was the scourge of veterinarians and even in her older days could surprise with a lighting quickness.

But she was insatiable when it came to being scratched on the neck and ears by me, especially while lying on my chest just before I went to sleep.

Marge was her agent-always making me continue and telling me how much Blackie enjoyed it.

Blackie also managed to sneak into hiding spots. One day, the dryer started making horrendous thumping sounds. We looked around for Blackie before hastily opening the dryer door.

Sure enough, Blackie jumped out, a little dizzy but basically unfazed by the spin cycle.

Probably one of the reasons we loved Blackie so much is because she was intensely loyal. To her, all visitors were intruders into our happy home.

While here on vacation, brother-in-law Derrick (he's a dog person) and our toddler nephew Seth had to run into the bedroom to escape the irascible Blackie. Of course, she managed to race through the door before they closed it.

Following her death, we still catch ourselves expecting to see her come around the corner. We still look around before closing a door and we still think we will see her in the hall when we return home.

Blackie is now back in the house-or at least her ashes are.

Until we figure out what to do, Blackie is sitting in a cardboard box on our dining room table.

She used to lie there on a towel while we ate.

It's funny the goofy things people do for their pets.

Eric Mathison can be reached at hteditor@robinsonnews.com or 206-388-1855.