Understandable Confusion

Our Dog Pepper was due for her flea-prevention treatment last week. This is a two-person job, with Husband holding the dog while I squirt the preventive oil between her shoulderblades. The oil itself is hermetically sealed in one of those foil-covered plastic containers that require skill, persistence, and brute strength to open.

After trying several times to peel back the foil Husband gave up and grabbed my kitchen shears to cut off the top of the package.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked. "That stuff is poison! I cook with those shears!"

(And yes, this shriek was mostly in italics.)

He looked nonplussed as I handed him a pair of utility scissors from the junk drawer.

"Oh, sorry. How was I supposed to know those scissors were for cooking?"

A perfectly understandable mistake, given where they were stored (see photo). I mean, when something lives between the sugar canister and the toaster, no way would it be used for food preparation.

Sheesh.