Every Sunday F does what she calls ‘Baking’. It seems to involve a lot of cupboard and fridge opening, and lots of rattling and banging. There are metal trays and bowls which contribute generously to the clanging racket. However despite the noise I like sitting in the kitchen when F is baking, but she forgets I am there and steps backwards onto my tail or feet. F is clumsy.
Baking makes the kitchen warm and fills the place with a cooked human food smell. The silver, whirring cupboard starts up and the warmth seems to come from there. Apart from being an obvious source of heat and therefore inherently attractive to cats (particularly in winter time), I like the silver whirring cupboard because roast chicken comes out of there.
Baking, however, doesn’t smell like roast chicken. Butter, I smell butter; and eggs….. ….but baking also usually smells ‘sweet’ – not of particular interest to this cat. Sometimes, however, it smells of cheese and bacon. I like bacon.
I can’t actually see what baking is; I’m not allowed about floor level in the kitchen (or the dining room for the matter, but I sometimes stretch the rules by sitting on the dining room chairs. Any higher than that is living very dangerously – even the windowsill!). I haven’t tasted baking either but on the whole it doesn’t smell edible. The closest I’ve managed to get to what might be baking (judging by the scent) is when some goes on plates on the small table in the lounge – I can look at that from the windowsill. It’s usually associated with visitors, and visitors generally don’t know it’s some kind of secret that I’m not meant to know about, so they let me sneak around the arms of the settee and make a closer inspection. There is a variety of stuff…..biscuits (I know what those are, although human ones look bigger), and soft things like sponge balls and small pillows.
When ‘baking’ is finished some goes into tins which go into F’s bag and she takes them to work on Monday morning.
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