Even though I wear gloves, overalls and gum boots to my part-time weekend job as an animal handler, I always end up covered in fur and smelling of dog. (I get hair and dog spit in my beard as a consequence of bending down and exposing my throat to the wee beasties, something that's vital in cementing/reaffirming established trust.) I don't mind, though; I love the little darling sweethearts. Dogs are, mostly, sweet and simple creatures that will behave towards people (and other animals) pretty much the same way as those animals behave towards them. I wish I could say the same of people, but I cannot. We are far more complex and generally more inclined to be shitty to one another, in my experience.

Cat Stevens/Yousef Islam might love his dog as much as he loves the people in his life, but the people in mine have let me down and betrayed me on numerous occasions, without exception. So I love my dogs unconditionally. My supposedly nearest and dearest, not so much. That's why, when I move into my new accommodation (which doesn't allow pets, not that I'd be able to afford one, anyway), I'll miss my dogs more than my family and its drama. That is something which I am more than happy to leave behind and not come into contact again, if I can help it.