The pet ones died their natural or slightly more predatory-type natural deaths, and were generally buried with all due ceremony if there was a body to be found.

The non-pets, on the other hand, were delicious.

Some of the ones formerly thought to be pets, such as the vile abusive rooster Nemka, were downgraded to the status of lunch, and eaten with all due appreciation. I had caught Nemka in the act of raping my poor little Hematite (and after X number of years with chickens, had learned to tell a cooperative mating from a reluctant mating from a rape) and Nemka being a full-sized rooster, and Hematite being a banty, he was squashing her. So I grabbed him, drawers down, and held him firmly until my father came home, at which time he became meat, and shortly thereafter he became lunch, which I ate gleefully. He was stringy stew, but better there than anywhere else.