allow me to tell you of the grave error i made yesterday. it was 8pm. i was cooking moroccan stew. needed to let it simmer for 25 minutes before i added the chickpeas. i shall go upstairs, thought i, and take a shower, and leave the chickpeas on the counter to drain. puddles the cat is sleeping near the stove. i briefly consider locking her out of the kitchen - but surely even she, leviathan of unconquerable appetites, will not concern herself with hard, drained, uncooked chickpeas. surely not.
with this set-up in mind, what do you imagine i found when i came back downstairs?
i'll not keep you in suspense.
the moral of this story is never own cats
One day my partner once left green tea out to cool. My cat is entirely uninterested in tea, so this was not a problem.
What we did not account for was that a neighbourhood cat might steal into the house through an open window, walk past Tillie's kibble and freshly-poured wet food, and that I would come into the kitchen to find someone else's cat with his head deep in warm green tea.