I know this is going to get me in trouble with some folks, but I am not an animal lover. I do appreciate some animals, those that are necessary for food: hogs, cows, fish, chickens, etc. They have nourished me all my life.

I do not care to be kissed or licked in the face by pets as many people do. You see, I know what cats and dogs have licked before they kiss or lick me. They lick their own bodies, including unmentionable parts. Dogs also sometimes lick those areas of other dogs, wallow in carrion (dead meat), even eat carrion. Cats groom themselves with their tongues, including unmentionable parts and become predators for rats and other creatures.

Growing up on the farm, I observed all of these things. Contemporary house pets -- dogs or cats -- tend to revert to some of their primitive behaviors when they spend time out of confinement. I cannot love them enough to accept their kisses and licks.

Another problem is the fact that these pets do not live very long. Even at their greatest longevity, we lose them and loss is painful. My personal experience with pets has been of early loss.

When I was 4, Daddy's pointer bird dog Nell had a litter of pups and he kept two of them as future hunters. Unfortunately, Ranger and Pat wandered, raised the ire of a neighbor and were fed poison. Through the fence to the cotton patch, I discovered my playmate pups dead.

When I was 12, I had a strikingly pretty black cat. She was a typical house cat, but I claimed her as my own and named her Simba, borrowing from a Tarzan book that I read. She was sunning on the sill of an open window where we had been living until our new house was built. But a woman living in the old house grabbed a stick of stove wood and bashed Simba in her head, killing her.

Soon after, Daddy got an "over the hill" female pointer, hoping she would produce another generation of bird dog. She did: three robust males; two for Uncle Bill and one named Prince for himself. Prince showed the greatest promise as a hunter and watch dog. And he attached himself to me. A neighbor had a female dog that came into heat, complete with pheromones that caught the attention of all three of the young males. Their arrival raised the ire of the bitch and he poisoned them. Prince was gone, taking part of me with him.

Daddy was determined to get another hunter and found another pointer named Jody. By that time, I liked to roam the wiregrass woods on Saturdays. Although Jody was never great at finding quail, he was a fine companion and I came to love him. He was so speedy that he sometimes did encounter a covey. What could go wrong?

Uncle Dorsey Williams lived on a large farm just across Reedy Creek. Since his farm was not divided into smaller units, he used electric fence to section off corn fields. It was a great place for quail and doves, so I visited often. On one trip, Jody ran into the electric fence, right across the eyes. He whined, but kept going. Soon, I was off at college. It was Daddy who discovered that Jody was blind in both eyes and had to be euthanized (put down). I think that I loved Jody most of all. I quietly decided not to do that to myself again.

Then Snow came along. He belonged to Gary, who trained him well to be a hunting dog, a Lab/Golden retriever. He also set on quail occasionally. When Gary left for medical school, Snow made her home with Annette and me, where she became a marvelous kids' dog. Grandchildren rode her like a horse. Even after spinal dysphagia brought her great pain, she only whined when they climbed onto her back. Finally, cancer took her and I cried again. So did Gary.

I greatly admired Duke, a cast-off from a Statesboro owner. Duke found a home with Daddy and Mother where he was immediately beloved. Daddy and Duke became close buddies. Daddy's infirmities once pitched him into running water. Duke went to him and pulled him to safety. He also was a fearsome watchdog. Sadly, as all dogs do, Duke aged and died soon after Daddy did.

I guess that the reason why I do not love pets is because it hurts so much when they are gone.

Roger G. Branch Sr. is professor emeritus of sociology at Georgia Southern University and is a retired pastor.