[Aziraphale lifts a hand to cover one of Crowley's where it rests on his chest; his smile is fond, his voice a soft murmur.]

I have to admit I didn't expect him to be quite as good at it as he was. And he did actually manage to train the thing a bit. [With some demonic help, naturally.] For about two years they were always underfoot, tearing around the castle shouting and barking and knocking over everything that wasn't nailed down. You'd have laughed yourself sick.