This is all very true. I remember growing up, my dad wanted a dog. So he bought a white German shepherd named Floyd. I ended up taking care of it. I fed it every day, and played with him. We ended up being best friends. When I joined the Army, Floyd ran away from home. Poor dog. He's likely dead now, but who knows how long he roamed looking for me before he was picked up by a stranger?
On another note, my grandson took an interest in guinea pigs. It's actually kind of neat to see him take her out of her cage and hold her like a baby as he pets her.