"Well, her hobbies are pretty interesting too," Greg mutters darkly. "I don't get a lot of say in them."

In spite of his warnings to Rita to hold still, he's only half listening to her as he picks his way over the mess towards the bathroom. He keeps that little pellet gun trained on her as he opens the door and lets the frazzled mass of fur dart back out. Lil firmly plants himself between Greg and Rita, his growl hoarse and faint from all the barking. "Shhh, shh boy, I'm okay. Good boy, lemme see you, little man. Did she hurt you? Shh." For all intents and purposes, Greg seems far more interested in checking his dog over than defending himself from Rita's accusations.