My parents have a dog. The dog was a long time coming, my mother having lobbied for over a year to adopt him from my sister's friend while my father continued with a stream of "over my dead body" and "we don't have room/time/patience" arguments. He should have known better. Let me back up.
Before the cat arrived, my father had been very against the idea of a bit. It's not that he doesn't love animals- he really does, and they take to him quite easily. I think he had just been without them for so long (the whole time I was growing up), and having finally retired, he might have been worried that a pet would be too much work. But my sister had started to feed and then taken in a stray. Jade was a very nice cat, but the condo where my sister lived (owned by my parents) did not allow pets, and she has an illness (don't remember what kind) that can be transferred to other cats, and so my sister tried unsuccessfully to get her adopted. My parents got more and more upset with her as time went on, believing (probably correctly) that another tenant in the complex would see it and report them and they would get fined. But they also didn't want the cat thrown out in the cold, or dropped off at a shelter. My mom's solution was that my sister, when leaving town for a weekend, drop the cat off at their house "with a six pack of Beck's. You won't need to come back and collect her after that."
She was right. My dad, who hates to be alone in the house for long periods of time, was soon spoiling the cat, and half of our conversations revolved around her.

Enter Bear. He is nine pounds of curly, soft, black fuzz, with a tiny white soul patch. He doesn't shed, and only barks when somebody is coming into the house. He is everything my mom has always wanted in a dog, and as she is fond of saying, "He only shits as big as your little finger."

The thirty day trial that my dad agreed to was over in about ten minutes. After that it was six months of conversations mostly about the dog. I am actually really happy for them. They go out for walks, and for the first time in over twenty years have met some of the neighbors (until then they have known the neighbors two houses down on each side of their house). Basically, the dog has been a big hit. And even after the buzz has worn off, he is still the source of some hilarious stories.
"You know how J (my nephew, who lives with my parents) has those big furry slippers?" my dad asked me yesterday on the phone.
"The other day, I'm down in the basement doing laundry, and I turn around and I see Bear over by J's bed. So I'm calling and calling to him, and he won't answer, and he won't come to me. I was starting to get kinda pissed. I'm like, crouched down with my hand out, going 'Here boy- come here buddy!', and he's not coming, so then I take on a more authoritative tone- 'Bear. Come here. Now.' And the next thing I know, I hear his little nails, click click clicking down the stairs behind me. And he's looking at me like 'What the hell do you want?' I was calling after the goddamn slipper the whole time!"
And of course my first thought, after I stopped laughing and wiped the tears from my eyes, was Gods I can't wait to blog about this.