Nicholai was a stand-up foster brother when he was a young punk and our family fostered a litter of eight fuzzy husky mix pups for the Oregon Humane Society. He'd follow me down to the basement where we set up the puppy nursery. Stepping with care, Nicholai would nuzzle each pup and sniff them all from head to toe. 
When I packed the puppies into his retired laundry-basket baby-bed and carried the youngsters out to the back yard, he followed along with his nose in the air and his tail tick-tocking back and forth. In the yard, he allowed the puppies to climb on him and chew his legs and ears. He brought his favorite toy – a purple and red crab with different squeakers in each of its eight fuzzy legs – and dropped it in the midst of the playing puppies. "Check this out!" He stood back waiting for their response. The puppies didn't pick up the toy so he did and squeaked it for effect, then dropped it again in their midst. "It's my best toy!" he tried to show them. They nosed around the crab, uncertain, so Nicholai snapped it up, squeaked it, shook it, and tossed it in the air. Finally, a couple of the pups got the idea and came to play with Nicholai and his special toy.
When they were finished playing with the crab, they laid out in the yard and chewed on sticks. I could almost hear Nicholai saying, "Why, when I was your age …" while rapt puppies gazed up at his every move.
We fostered several more dogs over the years, and each time, Nicholai accepted their presence in our house, if reluctantly at first. As the self-appointed watchdog, I know it was sometimes against his better judgment, but he took it in stride. I appreciated his flexibility.
Awww. What a good boy he is. My favorite horse at a local stable is an old school horse who has been retired to raise the weaned foals. He just loves them, and teaches them to be horses. I wonder if he teaches them to open their stall doors? He's been opening his for years, and often has the run of the place.
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