When I first got my dog, Smokey, we didn't get along very well.
He used to always do this thing where he would run at top speed as soon as he got outside. And when his little 33.2 lb self would hit the end of that leash, he'd darn near rip my arm out of the socket.
This used to drive me up a wall, so I had to train him NOT to do that.
But before I trained him, there was this one time I SO wanted to kill him during a walk. I was listening to my portable cassette player (I kept it old school. I've since upgraded to an MP3 player.), he did the running thing, and made me drop the radio.
The radio slipped from my hands and landed in a pile of dog poo.
I let out a huge "Ewwwwwwwww". I stood there staring at my radio as it balanced itself on its side in this pile.
That was when I started to think about the fact that material possessions don't really matter in life at all . That maybe, just maybe, I could go on living a normal, productive life without this ONE thing. What matters most in life is that I have my health and a gang of great friends and family.
I wanted to just leave it there.
I ended up picking it up. But not without much frowning and girlie squeamishness. I walked home with my "dookio" (dookie/radio hybrid) held in front of me, an arm's length away. I'm surprised that the cover didn't get holes in it with all the bleach I used to clean it.
I thought I would return him to his original owner after that day.