Obviously I named my cat after the wrong gay rock star. Yesterday Freddie tried to commit suicide. Worse than that, he tried to take Joe out with him.
When we first got Freddie, he had an annoying habit of getting up on the stove. He is naturally curious, and he was young, so I realized that while we were trying to break him of the habit, he would still probably get up on the stove when we weren’t around. Fortunately, the knobs for my stove and oven can be pulled off (that’s also fortunate for when Samang is around, actually). We did that, we sprayed Freddie with water every time we caught him up there, and eventually he learned not to get on the stove. I stopped removing the knobs.
I’ve caught him up on the stove a couple of times in the past few weeks, mostly when I haven’t paid him enough attention during the course of the day. I spray him with water, he gets down, I pay him some attention, life is good. I didn’t think about removing the knobs again, because I’ve only caught him there three times in the past month as opposed to every five minutes like he was when we got him.
Yesterday when I was at work, Rick played golf. He got home around 2 PM and said the apartment smelled like gas. He immediately opened all the windows to vent the place then checked the stove. Pilot lights were still on, but one of the knobs on the stove had been moved just enough to turn on the gas, not enough to turn on the flame. Rick found Joe in short order, but it took a little bit longer to figure out that Freddie was asleep on top of the refrigerator, which is right beside the stove. Apparently he used the stove as a halfway point to get up there and his big foot nudged the knob on the stove when he went up there. Dumbass. He’s fine, Joe’s fine, no one seems any the worse for their little adventure with gas.
When I got home from work last night, though, I had a long talk with Freddie. I told him I realized the holidays are a rough time of year for everyone, including cats, but trying to commit suicide was not the answer. I also stressed that trying to murder your poor older brother in your suicide attempt was really unacceptable. I told him Santa won’t bring catnip to little animals who attempt murder/suicides. I think we came to an understanding, but just in case, the knobs are coming off the stove again.
