Dogs are better than drugs. Last night I arrived home in an extremely pissy mood. I went in my bedroom and sat down to write some whiny, woe-is-me nonsense in my journal, when Fizgig jumped up on the bed and decided it was time to play. About ten minutes of watching him chase the thing that was moving around beneath the covers (a.k.a. my hand) was about all it took to get me back in a decent mood. Afterwards I walked him and brushed him, then he spent the rest of the evening snuggled in my lap. By the time I went to bed I felt a lot better about things. I love my dog.