A couple weeks ago, I got home from work around 6PM. Rasputin was at the door rolling on his back and purring. I did my usual, "Hi baby!" and tummy rub. As I got further into my apartment, I noticed something smelled. It smelled like cooking meat. I just shrugged and dropped my stuff off on the dining room table.
I walked through the kitchen to my bedroom to get out of my work clothes and I walked back to the kitchen to check on Rasputin's food dishes. That's when I saw the stove burner on under an empty pot. Holy shit. Quickly, I turned it off, yelled at Rasputin and paced around my apartment shaking. From what I can figure out is that Rasputin jumped on the stove when I was at work and at some point hit the burner knob enough to turn it on.
The pot is ruined and I am very lucky that the apartment didn't burn down. I have duct tape on every stove knob and have covered the stovetop with every pot I have so there's no room for a cat to jump up. Who knew Rasputin is a homicidal maniac? I probably cursed him with the naming.
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