Some reasons why my dog should die

Warning: People who love dogs and tolerate anything from them will not like this post. People who hate dogs and can't understand why a person would let one into their home won't like this post.

I know he's cute (he's wearing a bow-tie in this picture) and I know this is not going to be very PETA-like, but I think Bert is ready to go to dog heaven. At least I'm ready for him to go there. I came tonight and nothing seemed amiss even though I had a meeting after school and didn't get home until 4:30. Then I noticed Kramer sniffing around at the bottom of a book shelf in the living room. I pull off a couple photo albums and I can see, I am not kidding you, that Bert has taken one of those marking leaks on the shelf. On the shelf. In the living room. In the house. What the hell. So, I clean that up and come into the office to deal with an insurance problem (more on that in the second paragraph) when Bert comes in, sits by my feet, and starts licking his lips. I have lived with that dog long enough to know something's up. I walk into the living room and find that he's found a small baggie full of pretzels and has shredded the bag and the pretzels all over the floor. Why does a person put up with this kind of harassment?

On another equally insanity-provoking note, I got a letter from my home mortgage company today, informing me that they did not have proof of insurance on my house so they had "secured temporary coverage" for me to the tune of 1500 dollars. Now you might remember that back in November, I crowed about meeting with a nice insurance woman who had reviewed our "portfolio" and made recommendations for change and she would kindly take care of all the tranfers in our policies. Not necessarily so. I've been cancelled by almost every insurance company, new and old, in the last three months, some more than once. I won't mention the name of the company, but if an agent tries to give you this same line of BS, don't swallow it.