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We are slowly trying to remodel the kitchen. The reason being, not enough time, and let’s face it, nobody has that kind of money laying around. I think a kidney is probably cheaper.

This means that we are buying each piece separately. The new cabinets, the counter tops, and the tile, all a bit at a time. The tile has been done, which is in itself a different tale of a harrowing husband who slaves over several self-stick linoleum tiles while fighting off four dogs.

As I said, a different tale, a whole other pot of coffee.

We always had a large blank section of wall in our kitchen that we knew by adding a new counter and cabinets, we could double our cabinet and storage space. Off we went to The Home Depot (am I the only one who never knew their full name was “The Home Depot” and not “Home Depot?”)

We were eager to get started and buy the hanging cabinets, the counter and the countertop.

Our budget was not, however. So, $300 later, we had one counter and top. The rest would have to wait.

I gloss over this for one simple reason, Roswell, our psycho dog is the center point of our story.

<Takes, long sip of coffee>

Roswell, is aptly named as I have remarked on multiple occasions.

He also is a creature of habit. Which means anything that messes with his natural order is immediately suspect. This counter was no exception.

Fast forward to the counter and top being in place and several hours later. We are in the back of the house, when we hear growling followed by barking.

To what do we owe this tirade?

In the kitchen is Roswell, standing on the edge of the Kitchen entrance (he only runs through the kitchen since the new tile was put down. Chalk it up to his not liking new things or circumstances) barking and snapping at the counter.

I kid thee not. You can see the chew marks on the corner where he tried biting it. The scratch marks where he swiped at it with his teeth. And Roswell, tail wagging at a million miles an hour, in a hunched attack mode, just daring the counter to try anything.

His brothers are looking at him from where they are curled up on the couch, concerned about his sanity.

As we are looking at Roswell, he is looking at us and yelping at the top of his lungs. His hunter instinct has kicked in, and once that happens, his target whether it is a mop, a broom, a remote-controlled car, or even a car tire has no chance of escape.

So, here is a warning to all killer attack cabinets out there, beware.

Roswell, the cabinet slayer, is on the job.

Michael Cole is a syndicated columnist that when he is not writing, he is plotting global domination. You can follow him at www.storyoveracup.com