The dog was only inside the refrigerator for a few moments. Five seconds tops. I swear. It was his idea anyway. He initiated. I just went along with it. In my defense, Gonzo really seemed to enjoy being locked in my refrigerator. There’s turkey and beer in there.
It was warm this weekend, and my apartment doesn’t have air conditioning, so Gonzo’s desire to climb into my fridge was understandable. I’ve tried to crawl in there myself a few times during the hotter days of the summer, but I could never get the door closed. So when he decided to curl up inside of it, I said, “Meh. Good for him. Livin’ the dream.”
I had planned to grab a beer, but when the cool air hit me, I couldn’t help but hold the door open for a minute or so. Seeing this opportunity, Gonzo approached the open fridge door, put one paw inside and looked back at me to see if I’d yell at him. I was intrigued, so I didn’t. He then crawled into the bottom shelf of the fridge and curled into a ball to take a nap.
So I shut the door, just to be funny.
It was funny, at least at first. The real problem came when I tried to get the dog out of the fridge. I held the door open for 10 seconds or so, expecting him to jump out, but he just stared at me blankly. His gaze seemed to say, “What? I thought we were cool on this. Let me sleep, goddamn it.”
Since he wasn’t going to leave willingly, and I have a weird thing about leaving my dog in places that may be lacking in oxygen, I reached in to get him. He immediately scooted further back in the fridge. I reached in further and he kicked at me. I grabbed one of his legs and tried to yank him out, but this only resulted in a lengthy wrestling match in which many of the contents of the fridge were knocked onto the floor.
Gonzo has always liked enclosed spaces. He was a stray dog before I adopted him from the shelter, so he likes to be protected on all sides while he sleeps, even within the safety of my apartment. I have explained to him in great detail how my apartment is, in itself, a large box that surrounds him on all sides, but Gonzo doesn’t speak English, so it’s a difficult conversation to have. As far as I can tell, he believes hordes of angry cats will climb through the windows and use their claws to remove his butt without permission.
He likes his butt. It’s pretty much his favorite thing.
I’ve bought him three or four dog beds of different styles and forms, but he’s ignored all of them. He only sleeps in his travel carrier, even if I remove the blanket from it. It’s kind of like watching Kim Kardashian choose a Super 8 Motel over the Ritz-Carlton, or toilet water over Perrier. Gonzo prefers toilet water over Perrier as well, so at least he’s consistent.
The dog is now safely out of the refrigerator, but not without consequences. Every time I open the fridge door, he races into the kitchen in hopes of jumping inside. I have to open it like I’m cracking a damn safe, pulling the door open slow enough so the dog can’t hear it.
Is that how criminals open a safe? I dunno. Probably not. Who cares. It doesn’t work anyway.
Granted, I could train Gonzo not to crawl into the refrigerator, but I’m lazy and that sounds like a lot of work. Also, I’m hoping I could use this trick to impress girls. I’d say, “Oh, you want a soda? Well, watch this!” Then I’d snap my fingers and Gonzo would crawl inside the refrigerator. She’d ask where her soda is and I’d tell her it was still inside the fridge, and then she’d watch me spend the next ten minutes getting bitten by the dog as I tried to retrieve her drink. I assume I would get laid after showing such heroism.
There’s a slight chance this plan won’t work, in which case I’ll just be very upset for a while. Regardless, I still feel it’s rather impressive that I have taught my dog a trick. Sure, other people’s dogs know how to do useful things like sit or stay, but crawling inside a refrigerator is way more interesting. In turn, this makes me more unique and interesting through my casual association with him. And isn’t that the point of owning a pet?