One would think a dog should be relatively safe in her own den, but there was a serious incident earlier today that has made me question this.
I was attacked in my own kitchen.
The female human was dealing with the breakfast dishes, and I, as usual, had my head in the dishwasher, helping to clean last night’s dinner plates (ginger chicken and rice, one of her more edible offerings). I’ve been doing this for the last seven years and nothing untoward has ever happened. Today, however, with no warning whatsoever, the bottom dishwasher shelf suddenly reared up and attached itself to my collar.
It was a completely unprovoked attack. Of course, when I realized it had grabbed my neck, I tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t let go. I panicked and tried to pull away, but it followed me, out of the dishwasher, all the way across the kitchen floor and into the dining room. I tell you, it was terrifying. The thing was aggressive and entirely out of control. Dishes and silverware flying everywhere, humans yelling and swearing, glassware breaking: it was like a scene out of Platoon. Honestly, I thought I was going to die.
Fortunately the female human came to the rescue. She was able to grab the thing, overpower it and unclip my collar before it managed to kill me. I often think opposable thumbs are overrated, but today I was glad at least one member of the household has them.
Naturally, I was completely traumatized by the whole incident, and had taken refuge under the dining room table. In any normal household I’d have been treated with sympathy: some coaxing, perhaps some treats, and certainly some affection to help me through the worst of it. But as I’ve said before, ours is not a normal household. The female human, who likes to think of herself as my “partner”, surveyed the carnage in the kitchen, stared at me cowering under the table in abject terror, and inexplicably ... started to laugh. I kid you not. She thought it was funny! She even had the gall to describe it as “the most entertaining 30 seconds I’ve had in weeks”. To say I felt totally humiliated and betrayed is a gross understatement.
Let me amend that to “humiliated, betrayed and unsupported”. The household poodle, who witnessed the whole thing, simply shook his head, gave me his “dude, it’s only a domestic appliance” look, and then sauntered off to clean the dishes that hadn’t been broken. And you know what? The shelf just lay there and took it. There was never a hint of aggression towards him. I don’t understand it.
Anyway, I’ll be giving that particular appliance a wide berth for a while, but only for as long as it takes to plan my revenge. Nobody does that to me and gets away with it. The thing may not know it, but its days are numbered.
As for the female human, she’s tried to tell me it was only my name tag that got caught on the shelf, but after the hysterical laughter earlier, I don’t trust her judgment and have decided to keep her under close surveillance for the rest of the day. She’s been taking pills for her injured leg, and I think she may not be firing on all cylinders, if you get my drift. It’s the only rational explanation.
