Our First Row

Yesterday me and Dar had our first proper row. I say "proper" in the sense that she actually yelled at me. Of course, like most couples, we've had our share of arguments before, but nothing like this though. I've never seen her so angry.
And what was it over?
That stupid little dog that I thought would be a good idea to buy her for her birthday.
Kai Tom, the cute little adorable Shitzu, hates my guts. I've tried talking to him in that whiney baby voice she does, I try to coax him with his favourite chews, I comb his coat for him, everything she tells me to do so that me and him can become friends, but he just won't take to me.
So here's how the row erupted - Once a week it's grooming time, and the little prat has his soapy shower, his nails clipped etc. It was the day before yesterday, and I could hear them in the shower - him thrashing about and Dar trying to calm him and be still for mummy.
"Will! Quick! Quick!" she yelled. "He die soon!"
I rushed in quickly. "What is it darling?"
"He got soap in his eyes and nose. Hold him."
"Die soon?" I smirked. Trying not to laugh, I grabbed hold of him, while Dar went to work on his eyes and nose with the shower hose.
What with all the soap and him wriggly like an oily snake, he got free.
Dar let out a big exasperated sigh, then yelled: "Why you not hold him."
I moved quickly, skidding on the wet tiles and cornered him behind the toilet.
"Come on, quickly!" she snapped.
"Be a good boy, Kai Tom," I cooed. "You know it's bath time."
"Just take him," she screamed. "He blind soon."
As I put my hands round his neck his head twisted back and he caught me on the thumb with his sharp little teeth.
"Little fucker!" I screamed, and instinctively - and in self-defence - gave him a right hook between the eyes.
The squeal he made was only drowned out by Dar's own screams: "Arggh, you crazy! You kill him, you kwai!"
I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and flung him across the soapy floor. He came to rest between her legs and she quickly bundled him up into her arms. Wimpering like a baby, he snuggled his nose under her chin.
Oh, the glare she gave me then. Her eyes were like cold onyx stones. "Jai dam," she sneered. (black heart). "Why you do that? How big you? How big he?"
"Look," I said, holding out my thumb, wishing there was more blood than just the two pin-pricks. "He bit me."
"Ah, poor baby. Get out! I finish him now." And then she screamed at me: "I no need you for anything."
I stepped out into the other room, and sat there listening to "Nasty farang this," and "nasty farang that," and a string of growling Thai that I couldn't understand; which was maybe for the best.
I spent that night in one of the rooms that wasn't occupied. I lay there for hours wondering how this little ball of fur had driven a wedge between us. I wanted to sneak into the house, win him over with a chew, then gag him and take him down to the river with his lead and a sandbag.
By the morning I'd cooled off, so I went out and bought some flowers for her and barbecue pork (which he likes so much), and returned with my peace offerings. Half an hour of grovelling apologies I won Dar round, but Kai Tom's forgiveness is not so easily bought. He sniffed the pork, then went and sulked in his basket.
I put Dar's anger down to her hormones. Being so close to the pregnancy they must be all over the place. It was obviously very wrong of me to punch the dog (even though he's been asking for it), but her shouting at me was out of character and it only served to fuel my anger. I'm sure it was a one-off and she won't raise her voice to me again. Although she didn't say sorry, I'm sure she feels bad about talking to me like that.