This story reminds me of my grandmother’s old black miniature poodle, Christie Cowley. Christie would nest in the pantry, snarling whenever the door cracked opened and snapping at any desperate grab for a can of soda (she was usually sitting on the case). In the article, firefighters don “protective gear” to evict the trespassing terrier from the fridge — no doubt sturdier stuff than the oven mitts we used to score a can of Diet Coke. For the record, Christie Cowley did not look the part of fierce beast. A perfect poodle cut, seasonally appropriate ribbon and matching toe nail polish masked her less than hospitable disposition. I pity the groomer.