Wellll...he finally got me.
The Jelly is just over 17 inches now, his growth having slowed down appreciably over the past few months. He has become less and less tolerant of...just about anything, really. No more driftwood in his tank; decor consists of just his 12x12x6-inch ceramic tile house and four Amazon Swords in separate pots. But...even the pots are starting to get him riled up; he is periodically tipping them over, spilling gravel and potting soil and generally making a mess. I've been forced to silicone each pot to a hexagonal ceramic tile about 6 inches across, thus creating a wide base that makes tipping it over impossible.
So, yesterday I decided that the silicone was fully cured and that I would transplant each Sword into its new Jelly-proof planter; new organic potting soil base, capped with pool filter sand and a few large flat pebbles. I have been thinking that it might be time to remove the ceramic structure that was built for the cat to live in, especially since he now sticks out at both ends; I'm not certain if I want to make another one, 24 inches long rather than 12...or if I should simply remove the structure altogether, leaving the cat with four bushy Amazon Swords and a healthy covering of floating plants as cover.
While mulling this over, I did some in-tank drudgery: algae-scraped the front glass, changed the airstone, siphoned some schmutz off the bottom, thinned out the floating greenery. I noted that the guppies I had introduced were completely gone; a typical predator the size of the Jelly would likely have left them alone, as they would be beneath the notice of most large fish, but apparently even a half-inch guppy is worth the energy it takes to SSSLLLUUUURRPPPPP! it up when it ventures too close to a Jelly's business.
The entire time I was working, I was more-or-less keeping an eye on Lumpy as he sat brooding in his lair, his tail sticking out one end and his lips exposed at the other. I could practically hear him muttering.
Finally done, I stepped back to survey my handiwork. Tank a bit cloudy, as expected, but otherwise almost perfect...except...that flowerpot needed to be moved over a few inches. I casually reached my already-wet hand in to perform the correction...and promptly felt the last three fingers of my hand engulfed halfway up the palm in an emery-cloth-wrapped pair of pliers.
I'm not entirely certain what happened next. I seem to recall a calm, cool and collected twitch of my hand in an attempt to release it...but my dog levitated four feet straight into the air and came down barking, and my wife appeared at the top of the stairs and worriedly asked if I were okay, so maybe there was a bit of animation involved. Come to think of it, I don't recall Homer Simpson being present, so perhaps that high-pitched little shriek was me...
The dang fish released me almost immediately, lurched around and retreated back into its dark cave. I don't believe this was a feeding strike; my hands were clean and unscented, freshly-washed before I began working, and I had handled no food products. No, this fish had simply had enough disturbance into its domain and had come out eject the intruder.