It finally came to a head today.
I should’ve known: Jolie was already spoiling for a fight since a bigger dog jumped her out of nowhere (we were going by when its owner was offering it a treat, and Jolie had her ball in her mouth, so they were both defending crucial turf) on our run this afternoon.
When we got back she was jumping and growling at every little noise until I got fed up and sent her to time out, but the growling kept on coming from her time-out corner.
When she eventually calmed down enough to come back, it was only to find that Juliette had sprawled across my entire lap, which is, as we all know, Jolie’s spot. She lay on the other side of Juliette, head on my hand, but her shifty little eyes never closed.
So I really should’ve known that starting the vacuum cleaner would be pushing her just a little too far; the straw that broke the camel’s back, if you will. They’ve always had an uneasy truce at best, with the dog stalking angrily from room to room while the machine chases her through the apartment.
And yet somehow I did not expect my dog to yowl like a cheetah, jump straight up in the air, and bite the vacuum cleaner.
I certainly didn’t expect her to do it more than once….