So, last night, I hear the usual "cat-getting-into-trouble" noises from the kitchen, I get out of bed and go downstairs to investigate. There is a Ker-thump, and Assumpta comes walking out of the kitchen licking her chops vigorously.
I search the kitchen and can't for the life of me find what she's been into, until I get to the gas stove.
(side note: we still have a gas stove, but we almost never use it, especially in the winter when the woodstove is going 24/7, so it ends up being where we stack everything and store pots and pans).
On top of the gas stove was a skillet that we'd fried some beef in for dinner, and my husband had left the pan to cool on the gas stove before we rubbed the grease into it. In the grease were three or four distinct cat-tongue marks, and stuck to the edge of the pan were a few telltale white hairs from Assumpta's shirt.
(no wonder she never loses any weight!)
I know I should be mad at her, but I can't help being impressed that she managed to outfox us. Getting on any stove is one of the very few punishable offenses in our house, but since she was already off the stove, I couldn't really punish her, so I guess I'll be proud of her instead...and I'll be securing the gas stove so that it's unappealing to cats, and making sure that the cast iron pots and pans are out of cat reach from now on.
Ahh...my cat...she knows darn well she got away with something, but she's completely unrepentant. I brought her upstairs, and she laid on my chest, licking the last of the grease off her nose and wearing a very smug, satisfied look. This is why I have a cat.