I don't know about the people you know, but I know lots of peoples who save old stuff that they don't use anymore. Of course some people are collectors, but I'm not talking about them, I'm just talking about people who hang on to some of their old stuff. Maybe it means something to them, or maybe they just have no good reason to get rid of it. I have only owned two guitars in my life. I gave the first one to my sister after I bought the second one, and I still have the second one, although I haven't played it since 2007. I still have my father's old fishing reel and all of his guns except the two handguns, which I gave to a close family friend.
You said that you don't save your old art supplies like paint brushes. I can understand that because paint brushes wear out and you buy new ones, but what about that stand you put your pictures on while you paint them? Let's say that you buy a new one that you like better, but there's nothing wrong with the old one. Do you just pitch it, or do you keep it for a spare, thinking that you might give it to your nephew or somebody you know that is just getting started painting and doesn't have one yet? Or maybe you put it out on the balcony for your morning glories to climb on. And what about your old pictures, what do you do with the ones that don't sell?
I'm not sure that there is an afterlife for dead animals, or even for dead humans for that matter. The people who are convinced that there is have mixed opinions about the animals. Some believe that animals don't go to Heaven in their own right, but that a beloved pet might go there as a reward for its deserving owner. Your assertion that, if animals can go to Heaven then they can also go to Hell, is logical, but many people's religious beliefs are not all that logical. They might tell you that all the logic they need can be found in the Bible but, if you point out some passage that doesn't seem to make sense, they will tell you that you've also got to have faith. Furthermore, I seem to remember reading that more people believe in Heaven than believe in Hell. (Polls have been taken, studies have been done.) Also, many people's concepts of Heaven and/or Hell are inconsistent with the official doctrines of their churches, and that doesn't seem to bother them.
I can understand how people can become attached to their horses or pets. I mean some people get attached to a car, boat, or motorcycle, and those things aren't even alive. Then there are others who think that all of those things and animals are just tools to be used for the benefit of their owners. I'm sure that most cowboys got attached to their horses but, in an emergency, they would not hesitate to sacrifice their horse to save their own life or the life of one of their comrades.
I found out later that Old Man Fochman was indeed the founding father of Fochman's Auto Parts, and that he was also known to be a little funny in the head. I think it was mostly my beard that set him off. I got a lot of that in those days, but most of it was more subtle than my encounter with Fochman. I remember now that he asked me several times if I was "from the ship", referring to the Coast Guard Cutter Mackinaw, which calls Cheboygan it's home port. There have always been some people in town who didn't care much for the "Coasties", I suppose because they tend to get drunk and fuck the local girls in their off duty time. In those days, they used to let the Coasties grow beards during ice breaking season. Lots of Cheboygan men grew beards during deer season, which is in November, but this happened just before New Years, so Fochman must have taken me for a Coastie, or a Hippy, home from college for the holidays.
I know at least one other Cheboygan merchant who took me for a Hippy. I came into his drugstore looking for his son, who really was a Hippy. He said that he didn't know where his son was and, if he did, he certainly wouldn't tell me. "You Hippies are all alike", he ranted, "You don't wash, you don't shave, and you don't work. Not only that, you look like girls!" he added, as I absentmindedly stroked my beard. I calmly informed him that he was right about the shaving part, but wrong about the other things. I took a shower every day after putting in eight or more hours in my job at the paper mill. Furthermore, the only girl I had ever seen who looked like me was the Bearded Lady in the circus. I also told him that, since there were several other drug stores in Cheboygan, he needn't worry about being offended by my presence in his shop again.
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