When we lived in Topanga we knew a family consisting of a single father 
and a houseful of young boys. One morning the youngest boy came into he 
kitchen in time to see their cat piddle in the toaster. (Why the cat did 
so, nobody could ever figure out. Never had any other similar problems 
with the beast.)
He went to tell his father and while he was out of the room one of his
brothers came in and tried to make some toast.
Now, at its best, cat piddle is not readily confused with Chanel No. 5, 
and when burned it is far, far worse. They had to leave the windows open 
for days, and the neighbors had comments.
Now, whenever I think I'm having a bad day, I remind myself that today, at
least, the cat didn't pee in the toaster.

Allen H.
Relieved Los Gatos Sciolist