I am in a battle of wills with my dog.

Having recently lost the battle of wits with her, I am determined not to surrender this time.

Recently she has developed the habit of leaping onto the leather sofa to gaze out the window or take a quick nap whenever we go out. Sometimes, she'll even sneak downstairs when we're asleep and hop up there as if she owns it.

This is unacceptable.

Frankly, the dog has it pretty good now. After spending a few months in an animal shelter, stuck in a small cage with a cacophony of 24-hour barking, she now has a good home. She has a constant supply of food and water. Occasional table scraps. A big backyard to frolic in. Walks every day (weather permitting). She has not one, but two comfortable pet pillows in different areas of the house. We even let her sleep on the beds of our children, crowding them onto the floor if she feels like it.

The only places she isn't allowed are the bed in the master bedroom and the sofa. Before we moved in January, this wasn't an issue. She'd only strayed onto the couch a couple of times. Now, however, in the new house -- but the same old couch -- she's created her very own piece of special luxury dog furniture.

She knows she's not supposed to be there. She won't hop up there when we're watching. As soon as we go out the door, though, bang, she's there in a shot. I'll come home, park in the driveway and see her head peeking over the back of the couch, or the tip of her tail wagging contentedly. As soon as she sees the car, a look of panic crosses her face, and she leaps back down and waits dutifully by the door.

I will storm into the house, filled with rage, and she'll try to defuse the situation, getting all bouncy and happy and rubbing against me, as if she's excited that I'm back, not ticked off that she has to get off the couch.

I point to the couch, point to the dog, and say "no" in a firm and extremely threatening manner. She tilts her head quizzically, with a faint smile curling her lips. I know that you're supposed to catch the animal in the act for punishment or reprimands to have any effect -- otherwise the poor dumb animal doesn't know what you're talking about -- but she has some kind of super canine hearing. I can't sneak in the house or creep down the stairs without her hearing. But she knows.

I've taken to turning the car on, backing out of the driveway then quietly sneaking back to the house. I'll pop up in front of the window and start banging as she stares at me over the sofa. Then she'll leap off and wait by the door again. Nothing happening here, no sir. Love my master! Love my master!

Then, boom, back to the couch as soon as the door closes again.

I'm fairly sure this is some kind of weird dog psychosis, brought on by the introduction of a cat to our house. On the surface she seems fine, but deep inside there is some hidden resentment. Twice she has managed to wedge herself -- a mid-sized family dog, maybe 45 to 50 pounds -- into the cat's tiny bed. It's better than going on the couch but looks terribly uncomfortable.

Short of expensive therapy, however, I'm not sure what to do. I've taken away doggie movie night. I won't let her playfully nip the mailman anymore. I thought of smearing something on the couch that would be repellent to her; but really, she eats cat feces, so what could I find that repels her without killing the humans in the house?

My wife thinks I should shrug my shoulders and give up. It's not that big a deal. But this, as I mentioned, is a battle of wills. I WILL win. If I have to electrify the couch, I will. If I have to adopt a larger guard dog to keep vigil over the sofa, I'll do it.

I may just have to give the couch away, leaving the giant pet pillows for the family to sit on. Actually, these things are quite comfortable "