Bad dog!

Well, I'm going to pound another nail into the "We'll never have a dog" coffin of any of my dogless friends and family who read these updates.
Mister was in the doghouse (boy, do I ever know where that phrase comes from) bigtime today.
I woke up and came out into the kitchen to see last night's pizza box on the floor, the 2 remaining pieces of pizza noticeably missing. And then I saw the Papa Johns garlic butter sauce splattered all over the floor. Then I noticed the plate of peanut butter brownies I had made mysteriously missing from the countertop.
I regretfully told the boys they were not having cold pizza for breakfast (always one of the pleasures of ordering pizza around here, and a nice excuse for not making breakfast), mopped the floor, and tried to tell myself it was a good thing the brownies were gone because I was the only one who was really eating them anyway.
But the stupid dog kept following me around like, well, a dog all morning and he was just irritating me. I emailed Ben and told him that Mister probably wouldn't be following me like a shadow if he knew I was having to restrain myself from kicking him every time he crossed my path...
Then tonight I made pizza (yes, I know, pizza 2 nights in a row). I just made a biscuit crust so the pizzas were in 2 pyrex pans. One of them got eaten up, and then the boys had to go to Cub Scouts (their first meeting!!!), and I had to go to a visiting teaching interview, and I didn't have time to clean up the kitchen, so I put one of the pyrex pans over the other that had the leftover pizza in it. OK, not the best move in hindsight. But still.
I had only been gone for 20 minutes. I came home to find shards of glass covering the kitchen floor. Mister tried to get at the leftover pizza again, somehow got the top pan off (and this was in the middle of our kitchen table, I can't imagine how he reached it), and in the process knocked it off the table where it shattered on our tile floor (I love tile, but EVERYTHING BREAKS). At least he didn't get the leftover pizza this time. The shattering pan must have scared him off. Although I'd rather have my pyrex back than the leftover pizza. But there's at least a tiny bit of satisfaction that Mister didn't get what he was obviously aiming for.
And THEN I saw he had been in the trash can (presumably before he attempted to steal the pizza), and the lid was on the floor and half the contents strewn all around.
Oooh, I was very, very, very, very mad. Ben came home and I said, "This just might be the last straw with this dog. I do not want to have a dog anymore."
Brigham got very worried and said, "But I love Mister!" And launched into all the reasons he loves him.
Sigh... We won't get rid of Mister. We've had him for 10 years and we'll take care of him until he dies. But I'm also pretty positive we won't get another dog. Between the hair and the escaping (oh, have I told you how many friends we've made around the neighborhood because of our stupid dog always escaping? I haven't? Oh, right. That's because we haven't made a single one) and the stolen food (I'm still not over him stealing the lunchmeat from last year), the scratched up doors and ruined carpet, I think I'm just not a dog person anymore.
The problem with our bad dog is that I have no proper way of venting my anger when he misbehaves. I can't yell at him after-the-fact because he won't have a clue what I'm angry about. I can't lecture him endlessly like I might if he were my child because he's a dumb dog. I can't even hope that at least this time maybe he's learned his lesson, because I know he hasn't. I can only get mad at myself. And that's no fun at all.
It is ironic that he follows me around everywhere I go in the house. Where ever I am, there he is. I say "Move, Mister" about 5,000 times a day, because whenever I turn around, there he is, right in my way. He is loyal, he's got that going for him. But he is loyal to the wroooong person. I am the one who likes this dog least in our household, but I'm the one he insists on following around.
Anyway. I guess I'm feeling a little better letting it all out.