I thought that perhaps I had hit rock bottom in the dog/owner relationship when the dog rolled in whatever putrid shit she found two weekends ago, mere moments before my mother in law came to visit.  I was mistaken.  My rage and hatred has found new depths.  The dog found again whatever that hot mess was, and rolled in it some more.  After it had been rained on, and left to rot further in the sun.  Worse.  Much, much worse.  Then she barked to be let in like she owns the place, and came trotting into the house, and subsequently into the kitchen while I was eating dinner last night.  WHILE I WAS EATING!!!  My son said “What’s that smell?” with his nose all scrunched up, and I knew before I even smelled anything.  I looked immediately in her direction, and she had black death smeared all through her white fur, from her mouth (!!!) down her entire side to her tail.  I had to pick her up and take her to the laundry tub with food still in my mouth.  Need I say more?  The dog is no longer allowed any freedoms outdoors whatsoever.  Truly she is lucky to be allowed inside the house AT ALL at this point, but to get IN she must be under the DIRECT CONTROL of a Frank human when she is OUT.  Seems fair.   Lest I be prosecuted for animal abuse, I will be purchasing a tie down after work today.  She’s lucky I didn’t kill her.  Seriously.