Milo, what is your problem brother? Usually, you are my favourite. I thought we were good. That we understood each other. I thought we had a deal. I would take you to Dog Beach, and you would make me happy by running around like an idiot in the waves, making friends and looking like the star of a dog food commercial. I would scoop your poops, get you a drink, and we would go home.

But tonight - what the hell? Straight out of the car, you gave me a rope burn pulling the lead so hard and fast through my hand to get to that other dog with your hackles raised. Then you growled and barked at the other dogs getting out of their cars, so I had to keep you on leash along the shore. Roughly half the other dogs seemed to rustle your jimmies tonight - and you did a SECOND SHIT after I'd used the only poop bag I had grabbed.

Then, back at the car, you decided you didn't know how to jump back in, and just looked at me with your front paws on the bumper. I had to lift your big fat butt into the car for you.

This is not on buddy. For the next week, you are demoted to boring-walks-around-the-neighbourhood with no off leash time. You are in dog time out.

And you'll have to tuck yourself in tonight.