A man's best friend is his dog. That's assuming you want a friend who messes on your carpet and drools on your newspaper. If I won the lottery, I wouldn't be one of those people who immediately quit their jobs. I'd make my boss's life a living hell for a week or two first. Winning isn't everything.
Men are like buses.
They have spare tires and smell funny. So I put the cat there. People who live in glass houses shouldn't cavort nude on top of the piano doing gorilla impersonations. A rose by any other name would stick you just as bad and draw just as much blood when you grab a thorn. If I wanted to hear the pitter-patter of little feet, I'd put shoes on my cat.