Yet Another Kind of Predator

My person keeps a drawer full of predators. She says they’re bottles of paint that she uses to decorate things, but I know they’re really predators. Not that any of them have ever actually tried to attack me, but I know a predator when I see one. Apparently, my person doesn’t, so it’s up to me to protect us. Whenever one of those paint bottles comes out of the drawer, I have to fluff up my feathers and puff out my wings and put on my mean vulture look. Then I lunge. If the paint bottle happens to be in my person’s hand when I attack, then a finger might get bitten in the process. That always makes her mad. I keep trying to tell her that it’s dangerous to hold a predator in your hand, but she just doesn’t get it.