While my brothers and I were growing up, my family never had a dog. My older brother had a pet pigeon (that didn't last long because of a shameful thing done by his little brother). My younger brother had a pet turtle (that mysteriously climbed out of its fish bowl and disappeared while we were away on a trip to Arkansas), and I had a pet chicken...yes, a chicken! His name was Charlie. I was forced to give him away (on the excuse that we were moving to the other side of town.) Anyway, Dad didn't like cats. He said he liked dogs, but when we asked for one he always said no. Hmm! Well, I guess this is is proof that he did like dogs. Or at least he did on one February day in 1943