A Booger By Any Other Name - Woman Pays For Cloned Dogs From Deceased Pet

I'm telling you straight out - I seriously love my dog. Rescued from a puppy mill, he was shell-shocked when we first saw him. He wouldn't make eye contact, move, or sit; he stood stock still and kept his head down. For weeks after we brought him home, I'd stretch out on the floor facing him with my head below his, looking up at him while I gently placed my hands on either side of his body. Eventually he connected with us although it took over a year for him to feel safe enough to lie down in the presence of a human being.

Now he's a demanding S-O-B who is frequently found on his back with all four paws in the air, grunting with the expectation that I'll come over and rub His Highness's belly for hours, foregoing work, cooking, cleaning, laundry, and anything else not dog-related. And I do it, too, because I seriously love that dog.

My teenage daughters have told friends and acquaintances, "If anything ever happens to that dog, my mother's going to go crazy."

Yep, I'd go crazy. But not crazy enough to pay $50,000 to have him cloned like Bernann McKinney did after her dog Booger died. A South Korean company - which plans to charge up to $150,000 to clone a dog - has cut McKinney a deal because she's helping them publicize the fact that they're the world's first successful commercial canine cloning service. Yesterday she received five puppies that are Booger clones.

(I'm going to ignore all the possible jokes that could be made from that name out of respect for the original - and deceased - dog and his owner, just to prove I'm not entirely heartless.)

McKinney undoubtedly loved Booger just like I love my dog. Her dog saved her life and she believes he had a unique ability to reason. But when an Associated Press article quotes McKinney as saying ""Yes, I know you! You know me, too!" as she hugged the puppies, that's where I draw the line.

I know my beloved, pampered, rescued and subsequently spoiled dog is more than a genetic code that can now be replicated; he is the sum total of his life experiences, both good and bad. Because he was abused as a puppy, he rarely barks as other dogs of his breed do; he's not skittish and playful, but reserved and quiet. As much as I love him, if he were to die I would not 'get him back' by cloning him, and I am uncomfortable with the fact that we not only possess the technology to replicate life but believe we can regain what we've lost by using it.

From the photos, it's obvious McKinney is joyously, madly, deeply happy. I hope the cloned puppies live up to her expectations. They don't know her, really, and she doesn't know them. But I want to believe that she'll give them a chance to be something more than her dead dog reincarnated. If she lets them be who they are, she might find something better than a Booger. Maybe a Duke. A Prince. Or best of all, a Buddy.

_{Photo of Bernann McKinney and her cloned puppy © Chung Sung-Jun/Getty Images}

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