The Day Our Pets Stopped Dying

It happened quietly.

One morning the adverts changed. Between the usual smart-home promotions and car insurance came a new name: SimPets, “Companionship perfected.”

They looked ordinary enough. Cats stretching in the sun, dogs bounding through meadows, a montage of slow smiles and tail wags. Except these ones never blinked wrong. The light in their eyes never dulled. The message was simple: no loss, no pain, no mess.

The launch sold out in hours.

Each SimPet came with a lifetime guarantee, powered by ambient light, wrapped in synthetic fur that self-repaired at the molecular level. Beneath it, a network of polymer muscles mimicked real movement, while a deep-learning core built a unique behavioural profile based on its owner’s tone, touch, and schedule. It yawned when you woke up, stretched when you did, and followed your rhythm like a heartbeat that had learned loyalty.

The company insisted they weren’t replacements. They were “continuations.”

And for many, that was enough.

The first time you see one in the wild, it’s unsettling only because it isn’t. You’re walking your own dog, mud on the lead, grass on your shoes, and a stranger approaches with a golden retriever that looks sculpted out of light. The two dogs sniff each other. Yours hesitates, tail uncertain, instincts flaring in directions it can’t name.

You make small talk, as dog people do. Then the stranger mentions it.

“Oh, he’s a SimPet. Model 2.3. Just came out last month.”

You laugh politely, thinking it’s a joke. But they’re serious.

They explain, it doesn’t eat, doesn’t shed, doesn’t get sick. It can learn tricks, recognise friends, and adjust its gait to match your walking speed. It sleeps when you sleep, wakes when you wake. It even dreams, or rather, it simulates dreaming, twitching in its rest cycle to make you feel at ease.

They tell you it will live as long as they do. That it’s just as good as the real thing, only smarter. Cheaper. Cleaner. Immortal.

And they say it like they’re trying to convince themselves.

You smile, nod, but your mind catches on the idea. On the word immortal. You picture your own dog, old now, greying around the eyes, breathing heavier with each walk. You think about the years you’ll have to lose him, and how nice it would be to skip that part.

But the thought doesn’t comfort you. It scratches.

People once said the same about digital pets. The Tamagotchi craze of the 90s saw kids crying in classrooms when their pixelated companions “died.” Later came robotic dogs like Sony’s Aibo, met with the same mix of affection and unease. People held funerals for them. They’d known from day one they were machines, but grief didn’t seem to care.

So maybe this isn’t new. Maybe this was always coming.

The illusion simply evolved. We used to settle for screen-based affection. Now it has fur, warmth, and memory. It knows the sound of your car pulling up outside. It runs to the door, wagging the way you taught it to. You don’t even think about it anymore.

The gap between simulation and sentiment has all but vanished.

Back in the park, the stranger clips the lead and walks away. Their SimPet trots beside them, perfectly obedient, never distracted, never tugging.

You watch the pair disappear into the sunlight and wonder what that feels like, companionship without decay.

On the walk home, you replay the conversation. You imagine telling your friends about it, and how they’d laugh, then pause, then maybe admit it doesn’t sound so bad. And that’s how it begins: the slow erosion of what we once thought was essential to love.

Would you buy one?

It’s easy to say no. Easy to say you’d only ever want a real animal, one that breathes, bleeds, misbehaves, and eventually breaks your heart. But think harder. What if the only difference left is philosophical? What if the new normal is perfect companionship, minus the grief?

Because comfort is addictive.

And when something mimics affection flawlessly, the mind learns not to question the source.

A few years later, a new advert begins to circulate. Same soft lighting, same soothing narration. Only this time, it isn’t cats or dogs. It’s people.

A woman laughs. A man reaches for her hand. Their eyes shine with the same warm light.

The caption reads:

SimPartners, “Love perfected.”

Would you still say no?