And then there are the days when responsible pet ownership means chanting I will not beat my dog with the hammer. I will not beat my dog with the hammer. I will not beat my dog with the hammer. until the urge passes and one can deliver an irate but suitably nonviolent browbeating and muzzle-tapping for stealing all the blankets off the bed and sucking on them.
Thank God I'm not a parent. You can exile a Great Dane to the back yard for a couple of hours in the rain and not feel too terribly bad about it, no matter how much she thinks she's been send to the Gulag Archipelago.
Argh. I think I'm going to eat my salad and read some more of Peter's book, because it's good and it makes me less pissy.