So...for those who know my cat...we made spaghetti and meatballs last night for dinner. Eddie made the meatballs from scratch. I carefully browned them, then we made the sauce from almost-scratch. We combined the sauce and meatballs in a big cast iron pot and let it simmer on the stove, uncovered, while we read on the sofa. Tracer, meanwhile, was roaming around, sniffing the ground for dropped food.
After reading a few chapters, it was eerily quiet, which gave me a start. I listened for Tracer, but couldn't place him. Then we heard a clang, short and punctuated. I ran to the kitchen, but the cat was already gone. Nothing looked amiss. The trashcan wasn't overturned. There were no dishes in the sink for him to lick.
I decided to check on our dinner. There, I saw a trail of spaghetti sauce that lead to a meatball with two little divots eaten out.
The m*f*er had somehow taken out a meatball from a boiling pot of sauce. He had probably nibbled away at the exposed top, then decided to try for the whole thing. His fatal flaw - the meatball dropped right on top of the neighboring saucepan. The lid of the saucepan clanged once before the meatball rolled off.