The Crime and the Culprit

This morning while I was out running the Beloved send me a text: "Have you seen the bread on the toaster yet? Do you think Zen (sic) is heavy enough to step on it and make it work?"
I had no idea what he was talking about so I figured he had gone mad overnight. And if he hadn't my brain was certainly not equipped to make sense of it all. I continued running and forgot all about the text.

I got home, fed the cats, made tea and then I remembered. And there it was, on the toaster, in flagrante delicto; a melted plastic bag and a loaf of half burnt bread.

What.
The.
Hell.

Now, only 2 cats have access to the kitchen during the night: Zebedeus and Harley. Harley is a tiny waif of a thing, weighing in at about 7 pounds and there is no way she'd have the weight to push down the toaster switch. Zeb weighs ... well, we won't go there but it's most certainly a LOT more than 7 pounds. The boy is a friggin' MOOSE.

We shall be getting a new toaster (because this one is now covered in plastic crap) and we will make sure it has a cat-proof lever/switch.

We are very thankful he didn't set the house on fire.



The moral of the story; don't assume your cat isn't going to wake up in the middle of the night to make himself a sandwich.