THREE THINGS I COUNT AS PET PEEVES...
...are people telling me their dreams (what are you supposed to say? "Wow, hey, that's pretty twisted. Good for your subconscious!"), people reading me their poetry (I have been eating crumbs off the table of THE Great Poet, Emily, for too long.), and people who talk about their pets (I grew up in the country, where animals primarily existed to fend off - and occasionally eat - the broad variety of pests - human and animal. We didn't worship our animals, nor speak of them like children...).
SFX: TIBBY THE CAT, ATTACHED TO AN IV, FLOATS THROUGH SPACE. He is NOT amused by the indignity.
I don't like the Vet.
Sick dogs abound. Putrid. "Mew."
You will pay for this.
Tibby comes home today after four days in Kitty Intensive care. He is going to be fine... I'll be glad to have him back on the foot of my bed at night. So, I can stop dreaming in cat-haiku.