Oops, I did it again

I sit here, in my home office, with the door closed, Beagle at my feet. Not because I'm feeling particularly productive, but because I'm feeling very sorry for this dog. This.... BEAGLE. I'm not so sure I can live with my decision to add him to the family. What do you call it when your pet is making you crazy and you kill it? Are we talking hard time or just an ankle bracelet that would go nicely with my large supply of black clothing?

Greg was supposed to be my sons dog. I love dogs. I love all dogs. Except this one. This one I have nightmares about, hear howling while I sleep (yes, he's actually howling, it's not just nightmares) and yet he's so damn cute, I can barely believe I would ever get rid of him. Until he digs up another one of my plants, eats something that should not be consumed by dogs: (so far chocolate, a sock, a shoe, every leaf that has fallen in the back yard... did I mention I have a LOT of trees?)

He's gorgeous - the saddest, most soulful eyes. And, if I don't do something about this, I will completely lose my mind. I can picture it now. My son goes off to college. There's no place he can find to live with his dog. I HAVE TO KEEP HIM. Wait a minute... did I sign up for this?

So, I had "the talk" with him. Not the sex talk - that was 7th grade. The "if you make a mistake and adopt a crazed beagle that doesn't fit well with your family and the stress makes a bad illness even worse, it's ok to take him back" talk. Oh, and I'm giving him back him adoption money (adopting a cute but sickly beagle that sleeps all the time: $200. Vet bills to make sick beagle healthy: $697.00. Son admits its time to take the beagle back and spend that money on a nice dinner with a girl he likes: priceless.

Any questions?