Dobby

So we have a pet wallaroo.

Seriously.

He's pretty great. He likes pretzels, belly rubs, ear scratches, our Golden Retriever, and attempting to groom the people he loves, even though the people he loves don't really appreciate that at all, because he has tiny, grabby little Velociraptor hands that don't feel so great when they're trying to rip non-existent bugs off your legs. He also hisses like a cat, but only when he's happy. Two years later, and I still have to remind myself that the hissing is not my clue to back away slowly.

Dobby also comes when called. Consistently. And pretty rapidly. We have a ridiculously large number of pets, and only two other creatures (the dogs! and only two of them!) in our world do that. So we enjoy it. Also, I love Dobby enough to talk to him in the stereotypically doting baby-voice of all pet owners. I already know this - you don't need to point it out.