There is something strangely magical about getting close to an animal.
There is a bond of trust that develops, even with a small animal, where one species, which could kill the other, is showing it is prepared to be in harmony.
There is something very close, very tender, about a moment where my dog lies along the length of my body, almost spooning me, and sighs. It's a rare occurrence.
I remember, as a teenager, going to a petting zoo. A buck licked my hand though a chainlink fence, it's little black tongue scraping against my skin.
Even more profound, I once went to a farm with tame cheetahs. My friends were nervous, but I loved the big cats, stroking their heads and scratching behind their ears. I remember their fur was scraggy, not like a house cat, and their purring was so loud - like a sewing machine right next to me. One leaned against me and I nearly fell over. That was a slightly nervous moment.
I was also at a zoo once, where a tiny monkey climbed on my head. My friends were laughing at me, but I loved it. The feeling of this little thing climbing on my shoulder, my head, picking at my hair. It trusted me not to hurt it, in spite of my hierarchical superiority and size. In the animal kingdom, it would have been my prey.
On the other end of the scale, whenever Puppy Dog yawns, I am reminded that he could crush my neck in his jaws. And yet he chooses to lick my face and nibble my ear. In short - to love me.
It is an intense feeling when he lets me put my head down on his bed, and puts his head in my cupped palm to fall asleep. We are communing, and there is nothing else in this world like it.