Or so I surmise were the thoughts behind those hurt brown eyes. In vain did I try to explain that I had finally broken down and spent money on evil nasty weed killing stuff and she couldn't get near it until the poison had evaporated.
She didn't believe that one for a moment.
Finally I headed out the front door, and danged if she didn't try to squeeze past me, apparently in the belief that I couldn't possibly have meant any of those foolish words I'd just spoken. Irritated, I told her off, using her full name. (Anytime she hears Tangerine vom haus Tyson, she knows I'm really irked.) And I made it a Command that she not follow me out the door.
Oh the hurt look I got for betraying her thus. The angst at my perfidy.
Sigh. I know it's good for me to do the gardening, fiscally frugal and a good way to stay healthy. Nobody warned me about the guilt-inducing side effects. Time for a little doggie cleanup in the backyard, mano a guano, so to speak though thankfully not in the literal sense.
P.S. In case you ever wondered -- when blackberry bushes have a turf fight with English ivy, the blackberry bushes win.