The smell of burnt hair

It was Friday night. I promised Lauren I would meet her out for a few drinks, but since Mike's cough won't seem to go away, I planned on spending the majority of the evening home with him. So, I go to Mount Fuji, have a couple pomegranate mojitos then head to Randy's Pizza to pick up a yummy dinner. Mike wanted wings, and I wanted pizza, so it worked well. I love Randy's, but they don't have that addictive garlic sauce found at Papa John's. Therefore, Mike and I decided to look up a quick "how to make Papa John's dipping sauce at home" recipe. Everyone stated it was just melted butter with garlic powder. We can do that.

Mike put a pan on the stove, turned it up to middle heat and dropped in some butter. Scout jumped up on the counter as always, requesting to drink out of the kitchen sink. Mike put the faucet on a slow dribble and let Scout have his way. As Scout drank, Mike and I stood in the kitchen chatting and waiting for the butter to melt. After a few seconds, I happened to look over at the stove and yelled, "MIKE! Grab Scout! His tail is burning!"

Scout, so absorbed in drinking water from the faucet, had yet to realize that his tail was just close enough to the stove burner to singe his tail fur. Mike grabbed him and put his tail under the water. Scout had no idea what the commotion was all about. The heat only got the ends of the fur - he didn't get a skin burn at all. But our kitchen was quickly filled with the smell of burning hair.

Mike managed to wipe off most of the charred fur, and we even trimmed a bit. But there is still some remaining. Scout's little brown scar on the tail (which will be gone soon enough due to his incessant shedding). For now, it will serve as our reminder to better watch the cat when the stove is on. egads.