My favorite: Dog.

Last night at an open air concert in the city, I saw the frailest, oldest, quietest chihuahua of my life.  It was so fragile, shaped like a whippet, my brother's dog.  Those sensitive, bulbous eyes, protruding from delicately etched and scored temples, pitied the world while patiently accepting it.  Black graying, such a thin coat, suitable only for summers.  What a contrast to its owner, a ruddy, glowing girl with short, curly brown hair and a ready smile.  A baby-friend of mine reached out her hand for a pat, and I was in baby-dog heaven.