By CHRIS PARKER

cparker@tnonline.comIt's 9:30 on a chill Friday morning, and I'm in our library, trying to coax two cats into carriers for their first trip to the veterinarian.It's not going well.The cats, Sandy, a sweet, shy, orange-and-white male, and Sheba, a plump girl with a thick, soft black coat, have been with us for about a year. Although we have four other cats, we reluctantly agreed to take in Sandy and Sheba after their human was forced to give them up when she lost her home.Sandy and Sheba were well-cared-for, always kept indoors. They brought their beds and toys with them. But being middle-aged, they did not take well to leaving the only world they had ever known to live in a new world with new people and new cats.When they arrived, we took them right up to the library. Once out of their carriers, they scrambled under the fainting couch and cowered there, growling at any approach.We decided to make the library their initial "home" because it is separated from the rest of the house by two doors, allowing Sandy and Sheba to acclimate without having to deal with the resident cats.It's now been about a year, and although Sandy has ventured out of the library a couple of times, they consider it their world. We have decided to keep it that way for them; they've been through enough change with losing their home and their human, who loves them dearly.Sandy and Sheba are adjusting. They have become affectionate, each seeking out his or her favorite person. They play and "stalk" the birds who visit the feeder hung outside the library window.Their visit to the vet, I feared, would undo them. Sandy is a nervous cat, and in anticipation of the stress from the visit for their checkups, he was given a mild sedative.Still, the 10-minute trip triggered yowls and piteous cries. Once there, Sheba curled into a corner of her carrier and fell asleep. Sandy quieted, but stayed on high alert.The veterinarian and her assistant were wonderful, talking softly and moving slowly so as not to alarm Sandy. They even put a towel over him so he would feel secure with a place to "hide" during his exam.After thorough exams and a round of inoculations, Sandy and Sheba are pronounced to be in good health. They come home and immediately hide for hours.Eventually, they feel safe enough to come out of hiding, and are soon back to their normal routines.They are adjusting to the loss of their human "mom" and the changes in their lives. It helped that they went from one loving, caring home to another.But for all too many pets, loss and change are far more harsh and permanent. These are the pets who have become inconvenient, those whose owners decide they are too much work or who hook up with boyfriends or girlfriends who don't want pets and so are "allergic."The pets, having grown up with love and attention, warmth and food, are suddenly dumped off at abandoned barns or, if they are lucky, taken to shelters.There they cower, terrified and confused. They have lost their beloved humans, their food, their warm beds, their favorite toys. Those dumped off in remote areas die slowly of thirst and starvation, if predators don't get them first.Pets are 20-year commitments. If you can't promise to be a "forever" pet owner, please don't acquire one. Short of unforeseen disaster, there are no excuses for dumping a pet.