Yesterday I Set My Cat On Fire

No, that is not a metaphor.

Yesterday morning, as I was shuffling around the home office, attempting to wake up enough to make coffee, which would then wake me up fully, I set my cat on fire.

I hope that it goes without saying, but, you know, it was by accident.

Also, for those of you who won't want to read this if it's sad: She's fine. Absolutely, totally fine. Not even fazed, as if she'd been set on fire every other Wednesday for years.

Here's what happened: Princess (her full name is Princess Chamomile Sweet Tart, though I tend to refer to her as Baby Girl) has recently decided that the stove top is her own personal belly-warmer. For about a month now, I've found her sitting between the burners every morning, and occasionally in the afternoons if it's not sunny and her normal bed-crossing sunbeam is absent.

And I've been thinking, well, whatever, she wants to stay warm, and though I have the heat on in my apartment, there aren't any floor grate vents for her to claim as her own, the stove top is not a  great solution but it's probably fine, it's ok. There have been one or two instances of her jumping up and hiding in the cubby next to the stove -- while I've been cooking -- but she's steered clear of the frontmost burner and again, it seemed ok, I guess. Or when I do the dishes (which, by the way, I do while wearing my new rubber gloves, and not only do I feel kindof like a Mad Men wife [is that good or bad?], it is so incredibly nice to keep my hands dry -- I strongly recommend yellow rubber gloves for your dish-washing needs), Baby Girl will jump up and perch on the stove and keep me company.

Ok, mostly she's probably just waiting for me to feed her.

In any case, and back to the terrifying events of yesterday, I filled the teapot with water after cleaning out the french press, and put it on the front right burner. Baby Girl was in her spot on the stove top, looking at me balefully (because she can't help it, that's just what he kitty face looks like), and I thought to myself, Well, I need to turn this burner on, but Baby Girl is up here. I, evidently non-convincingly, said to her, "Pumpkin, please get off the stove, I need to make coffee." She didn't move. And I thought, Ok, so, she's not moving. She's not that close to this front burner, it'll be ok if I just turn it on. Fire can't just jump, right?

This was a poor decision.

She's a medium-hair cat, and so has mostly short fur, but with some longish flyaways. It was those flyaways which I did not realize were close enough to the fwhoom of the lighting burner. In what amounted to less than two seconds, flames licked up the outer edges of her fur -- it looked a lot like what happens when you set a sock on fire. Like this. (If you have ever in your life hung around guys who are in college, you've probably seen that trick.)

So Baby Girl sits up and jumps down off the stove, while I'm screaming, OH MY GOD MY CAT IS ON FIRE, and before all the words are even out of my mouth, she's on the ground and no longer on fire, sniffing at her singed fur with disdain. I run after her, babbling incoherent ARE YOU OK HOLY COW BABY GIRL ARE YOU OK and meanwhile, my other cat is meowing becuase he gets upset when I'm upset.

I grab her up and inspect her fur and skin, and brush off the singed bits. Her whiskers on one side have a slight curl to them, and the flyaway, long bits of fur along her right side are now as short as the rest of her fur.

But she's fine, obviously fine, and so I start to calm down, though it's clear that I'll no longer need that coffee to wake up.

So here's the lesson I learned: Carelessness and laziness, while easy, are not a good idea. I mean obviously, right? But sometimes I need a little reminder.

Had I nipped her stove top sitting habit in the bud, had I encouraged her to find another warm spot in the apartment (I've since bought her a little heated pet bed), had I not allowed myself to be used to the sight of her up there in the mornings, had I spent the time to lift her off the stove ... I was careless and lazy and let a not-so-great idea become a habit.

Are you writing a manuscript? Have you allowed yourself to fall into careless, lazy habits within the text? Don't let yourself be lazy -- if you do, the next thing you know, your cat may be on fire.

p.s. Taking yesterday's incident to heart, today I skipped making coffee entirely and picked up a chai from the coop:

Other involved parties have not yet learned their lesson:

So now I'm keeping her close by, which means her new perch is on my laptop's keyboard:

Comments

[Dana]

It's okay. Studies have shown cats actually like to set afire from time to time, so long as no lasting injuries or death result. Something to do with establishing their space, and how they know when they've spread out too far from their normal range. It's all crocodile rain stuff and I don't really understand it. And no, I haven't actually seen the study, but there are studies on just about everything, and most of them tell us everything counter-intuitive is actually true, so I did a little extrapolation and figured this must be okay, too.

So don't worry about it. Any creature that goes through life with a name like Princess Chamomile Sweet Tart has to have a pretty tough exterior. ;-)

[Keli Scrapchansky]

If it makes you feel any better, I set my cat on fire a few years ago. He was fine, too, and managed to live a long, happy cat life afterward. I admire you for finding a lesson in the flames. I, on the other hand, simply decided to no longer use tapered candles at the dinner table.

[Robin Agnew]

THANK YOU for a much needed laugh of the day - hilarious. If my pug was ABLE to climb on the stove, I'm sure I'd have a similar story...

[Barbara Poelle]

AWWWW!!! But hey, no one got hurt. It happens. Don't feel bad for Baby Girl. Feel bad for me. I burned my nose sniffing the iron. (You KNOW that freshly ironed shirt smell is so yummy. Well, it's not the bottom of the iron that makes that happen. Trust me.)