Me or the dog

"Where's the dog?" Tone forced to be casual but the lips were tight. 
"Gone. I told you, it was me or the dog." Matter-of-fact and, as always, convince he was 100% right. 
"And I said, 'Benji' so why the fuck is he gone and you sociopathic arse is still on my couch?" Rage was boiling. 
"It's my home too. You cant kick me out." Mr Always-Right strikes again. 
"Like hell it is! I work, you don't. I pay the rent and the bills, you don't. My name is on the mortgage agreement. Your's is not. This is MY home and Benji was MY dog. You have no rights here. So. Get. The. Fuck.Out. Of. My. House." Storming footsteps followed by the sounds of a window then a cupboard being opened. He strolled into the bedroom to see his clothes being thrown out of the window. 
Once aware of the presence, she turned to him, fury in her eyes. 
"You have 24hours to return my dog or I go to the police."
"I will do no such thing and I will not be leaving."
"Yes, You will." It was a threat and he knew it was not hollow.