Here's one nightmare we the editorial team at LifeStyle try our darnedest to avoid: publishing pictures our readers send us of their children under the header 'What A Pet', which is a column for pictures of readers' pets that runs every last Sunday of the month.

Can you imagine the uproar that would result? No parents I know like to think of their flesh and blood as cute little things which amuse them; which they feed, train and groom well so as to elicit admiring coos from strangers who stop to admire them; and which they don't always have enough time for - even though I've seen many work-obsessed parents and aggressive stage mothers actually treat their children that way.

Dog lovers, on the other hand, would probably love it if we ran pictures of their furry companions under the header 'Oh, Baby', which is the name of the column where proud parents hope to see us run adorable photos of their little tykes.

In fact, some dog owners might go so far as to argue we should not change the header come the last Sunday of the month. Their dogs are their babies, after all.

Last week in the LifeStyle story Furkids For Humans, one man, married but who currently has no kids, went further.

He said: 'I think I will treat my dogs better than my kids. Think about it: When you return from work, no kid will jump on you and welcome you the way dogs do.'

You've got to wonder what kind of a childhood he had or at least about his experiences with children.

I easily accept people feeding their dogs ginseng and foie gras without invoking the plight of starving African orphans to hint at what could be thought of as criminally wasteful behaviour. But I draw the line at comparing children and dogs.

It isn't just the outraged parent in me speaking.

For one thing, it's offensive. Would anyone say, for instance: 'No Japanese would (fill in the blank here with a cultural trait) the way an American would'?

Don't children deserve at least the courtesy of political correctness?

For another thing, it's plain wrong to think children don't run into their parents arms. Children do that all the time, to return the love their parents shower on them.

When I return home, I can't wait to unlock the gate before shouting to my elder daughter: 'Hello, Faithee! Daddy's home.' She reciprocates with equal, if not greater, enthusiasm - 'Oh! Hello, daddy! Daddy's back. I miss you!' - does an excited little dance where she bounces on her feet and dashes into my arms the moment the gate and distance no longer separate us.

Here, I have to resist quipping: No dog will talk to you with love the same way a child does, for no doubt some dog whisperers will claim to be able to interpret woofs.

Anyway, my intention is not to provoke dog lovers, whose kindness and generosity are worthy qualities no matter who or what they are bestowed upon.

My question is: Is it so hard for non-parents to understand what it feels like to be parents?

Actually, it's not hard. It's well nigh impossible - if my own experience is anything to judge by.

For the first seven years of marriage, my wife and I chose not to start a family. Just hearing about all the headaches, troubles and good old-fashioned hard work parenting involves made me feel tired enough that I didn't want to try it.

At the time, the unimaginable joy I would feel at having my own children, which my parent friends told me about constantly, was exactly that: unimaginable. It's a theory that the mind acknowledges without it touching the heart.

Neither did I understand why new parents couldn't meet up with us as often as before, show up on time for appointments, and rush to abandon their own homes in favour of squeezing an entire small family into a room in their parents' place.

Then three years ago, in addition to not showing up and showing up late for appointments, I was the one fighting the urge to show pictures of Faith to everyone I came across. I could tell you the reasons, but what would be the point?

And more than one year ago, I enthusiastically and recklessly surrendered the privacy of living in my own flat when my wife and I elected to move our small family of three (now four) into one room in my in-laws' house.

From Mars and Venus hail men and women without children who love dogs very much. To them I say: 'Greetings, fellow aliens, I come in peace.'

This article was first published in The Straits Times.