Back in the early '80's, my Dad was a confirmed Dog guy and had no use for Cats. He only came to understand the value of a Good Cat after his heart attack and subsequent triple bypass surgery. During his recovery, Mom's black and white cat Consuelo would sit quietly in the bed with him. This helped Daddy as he got better. He still wasn't an utter convert - that took twenty years and a cat named Honey. Honey is a fine cat.
(Amazingly, you can still get Earl on Amazon. Earl came (and still comes) with a death certificate, You can view it here - look at the place of removal for a laugh.)
Fast forward to Christmas 2009. Whan I met my extended family for our traditional Boxing Day gathering, Mom handed me a Bag Full o' Stuff. (She is de-stashing in a big way.) And lo and behold, there was Earl! He had somehow survived - or at least, his corpse did!
I brought Earl home for the Stooges to enjoy. Which they did. And now I have found that the family member who enjoys Earl the most is -- Sophie.
Ah, Sophie. So sweet, and yet so dim. Sing the somg with me: "Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free"....