Here we go: I do not want a Borders reward, spy camera, workout pass, to claim my cash, to see foreclosures, shoes on sale, my horoscope, or anything via national satellite.

I have no interest in job alerts, Las Vegas media, insurance finders, your horoscope, or the president's daily astrological forecast.

No thank you eHarmony, match.com and invites to meet singles in my area, or even see them for free. As if we choose our dates by flipping through glossy mags and saying, oh, I like this one. Won't he go nicely with my new shoes?

Rotten e-mail advertising.

Upon my doorstep even the most diligent salesman will die. May he stand there until his fu@!ng finger cramps on the doorbell. May his knuckles bleed from knocka knocka knocking. May he wither while I slip out the back.

Jerry says I am cheap. I say he has one opinion too many. I just don't spend money unless I really want something.

After all, I shook out my wallet and money fell like snow in the veterinary establishments where employees peeked at my arrival with Lily and cheered. Here comes Money Bags!!!!!

Tonight with Lily's face peering up from between my palms and her ears tickling my fingertips, I appreciate the beauty of symmetry. One side is not always mostly like the other.

Standing in the grocery store isle perusing new releases, best sellers and favorite authors blah blah blah I saw a dog's little lopsided face with something more wrong than an odd asymmetry. The dog on the cover stared at the camera after recovering from what could have been a burn, a skull crushing accident, a lawnmower injury, and a stroke. His lips were loose as if the muscles and nerves were either too damaged or severed to keep his smile up. His eyes were right, but the flesh, missing ear, and creases of scar tissue twisted him.

Flipping to an image inside, there is the dog seated in the center of a family portrait. Mom and dad and kids surround him, smiling.

I flip again and find an explanation. The ripped apart and badly healed animal was a dog fight victim. Police found him.

I really have considered seeking employment with an animal rescue agency or some type of municipal animal control. But how could I do either of these jobs without killing abusive, negligent, and stupid people who intentionally or through measures of dimwittedness bring harm, starvation, pain, and bloody suffering to their pets? I would kill them, resurrect their bodies, and kill them again.

I have often sat aghast at the extravagant, thorough methods of pain that people concoct for one another. More than hatred, it's giddy and rewarding for the man who holds another's head by the hair to rip flesh apart like he's trimming hedges.

I saw this dog's damaged little face and I understand.

Within each of us is a little piece of killer that most of us never nudge.