I believe my dog loving credentials are well-established. Hell, I have an entire tag devoted to them. I got into a drunken argument a couple of months ago with a friend when I confessed that I'd find it difficult to choose between the life of my dog and the life of a complete stranger - a truth, by the way, which I am in no way proud of, but is there nonetheless. I don't write poetry (unless it's about Ibb, of course), but I'm perhaps at my closest whenever there's a canine involved.
In short, I adore our myriad forms of domesticated wolf. Moreover, I am continually, deeply impressed by the multitude of ways they can be trained to be more helpful (I am still amazed by all the different things they can do for war veterans, for example). Even so, I'm finding it really difficult to be OK with the idea of them sniffing my urine for prostate cancer.
Perhaps this is my unqualified love of dogs clashing with my absurd hygiene issues, or maybe it's my firm belief that the degree of love I have for something should be inversely proportional to how happy I am for them to smell my piss.
Still, that's just my own craziness talking. For the rest of humanity, it can just be reason #457,658 why man's best friend is worthy of your adulation and praise.
h/t to Balloon Juice.