I, Klaus the tortoise, was already sliding on my belly across the kitchen tiles, gripping a lettuce leaf firmly in my mouth. The robot vacuum’s side brush had swallowed the other end. It was towing me toward the hallway with the confidence of an appliance that had never read the section about tortoises.

Five minutes earlier, Oksana had let me out for a walk and placed the lettuce beside the fridge. Then she started the vacuum, because humans enjoy feeding an animal while cleaning up its lunch. I had almost reached the leaf when the brush caught it. I bit down on my end. The vacuum refused to yield. I also had plans.

We moved slowly across the kitchen. The vacuum bumped my water bowl, spilled it, and soaked its own wheels. They began slipping, but the brush kept turning, twisting the lettuce into a tight green rope. I planted my feet against the tiles. This made nobody faster, but it did make the situation officially ridiculous.

Oksana came in at the noise and switched off the vacuum. She pulled the lettuce from the brush, rinsed it, and placed it in front of me beside the fridge. I was back where I had started, only damp and experienced in public transport. Oksana wiped the floor by hand. It was nice to see that at least one of us had learned not to trust machinery with my lunch.