Some of Harley's favorite toys are small boxes that food and food-related items are sold in; they're nice, soft cardboard for chewing. If we're feeling indulgent, we'll carry him around the house to find boxes (pop up a photo of the cookie box, the cereal box, and the plethora of boxes in the cabinet). But usually, I'll set one down, and he'll chew up the "bottom." Here's a "before and after" photo of a box of coffee filters.

If Harley can fit inside the box, he'll generally climb all the way in, and chew his way out:

If Harley's head can (barely) fit inside the box, he'll generally chew his way in.

He isn't interested in boxes all the time, but since food and food-related boxes are plentiful, and come in many different shapes and sizes, I can usually pique his interest. Here he is, chewing up two different tea boxes, Twinings and the old Trader Joe's Honeybush:

Here he is, chewing up a three-pack Brita filter box:

And here he is, chewing up a non-food-related nest box:

The thing is, the small box game isn't all that it's cracked up to be. You see, one of the best places to play it is on the stove.

Honestly, I've hesitated telling this story because on it's face, that's just plain dangerous! But don't worry, he's always supervised when he's playing, and we're obviously never cooking. (I've had Finsters in the kitchen for more than ten years, after all.) The hot mats cover the burners so his toes don't get stuck (that is, the burners are covered if Harley hasn't screeched at the mats and bitten them into submission). And to be fair, he's much less likely to fall off the stove than he is to fall off the counter. And after all, his favorite perch also sits on the stove.

Stick with me here, now. We're very careful, the apartment is very small so he can't get far without us running interference, and despite the fact that Harley regularly climbs down from his perch, across the stove, and across the single, 2-foot by 1-foot counter to play with knives (you thought I was joking about the sharp knives the other day, didn't you? But don't worry, he can only reach the handles, and they're very big and heavy so he can't do more than lift them up and let them drop again. Really.) apart from falling off the counter while playing in a paper bag that one day, there haven't been any problems.

That is, until this past Wednesday. Harley wasn't even playing Box at the time, he was across the apartment in his house. I was in the kitchen boiling up a pot of water, getting ready to cook some pasta, when I realized that apparently enough spit balls (you know, from past Box-destroying sessions) had fallen under the burner that they were starting to smolder from the heat. So I turned the burner off, opened the window, made a radical change to the menu (hey, Bruce and Harley aren't the only ones who can sit around in their underwear eating cheese), let the burner cool off, and — you know — cleaned. I do it when I have to.

Don't worry. No worries. In fact, I caught the problem long before Harley the smoke detector went off. Still, we really need to move. Harley needs more space.