I had a poodle for 15 years of my life. I got him when I was 4. He was the first pet my pap let me have in the house. Now, as a country man, this is crazy. Dogs are to be outside, not in bed with people and not begging for food at dinner every night. I mean, it's already bad that it's not a big hound dog to take hunting right? But now there's this little toy poodle, that sleeps beside me every night. And my pap would never admit to that, even now, 7 months later after his death, but that dog was his everything. They would eat cheese every night, he would hold him in his arms like a baby while watching tv. He would feed him endless treats every night. When he called to check on the dog the last day of his life while he was at work, he asked "how is sparky doing" and I couldn't get up the words to say he died. I just cried. And I heard him crying over the phone. He came home, and we buried him and he sat and cried with me. He would never admit that dog was his best friend, but god dammit, he was. And it brings me to tears even thinking about how much that little poodle had on our life for 15 years. I'm so glad my husky is only 3, but I thank god every day that my pap recognizes how great of a dog he is, and openly admits his love for him daily. Dogs man. They have a way of getting into anyone's heart.