For as long as I have known him, my husband has loved dogs, and wanted a dog. I'm a cat person, so I'm against dogs by nature. They're too clingy, too demanding, and too much effort... cats are less work, but as big a reward. It's to his credit that he indulged my demands for cats while suffering without a dog, but after the second one finally was friends with the first cat, he demanded his due. Our next pet would be a dog. I agreed, since he'd allowed me to have my two cats, and a few months later, we adopted a black lab puppy.
I did my best to help, and to share in the house breaking work and the training, since he was helpful with my cats, but it's still his dog.
And then I had this horrible, painful, devastatingly stressful day at work... the kind of day that make you want to use a baseball bat on your co-workers. So on my way home I called my husband, to vent and get sympathy, and when I got home, guess who was waiting for me right inside the door? A glowing, bouncing, ecstatic, beyond thought super-happy little dog, who literally threw herself at me, while her tail was wagging so hard she had difficulties balancing her "assault".
It's really hard to be unhappy when you're greeted by someone who is so happy to see you. I'm pretty sure that I don't even have to be nice to her as long as I notice her, and as long as I give her attention, she will keep loving me. That's kind of touching.
So while I'm still a cat person in all ways that matter, I make an exception for my puppy-girl. She's my dog, so that makes her superior to other dogs.
