Mom was an excellent cook. Except that her pancakes were always tough. Looking back, I think she must have beat the batter too much.
One morning she tried again--made us pancakes for breakfast. We could not eat them. She got mad and threw them out the kitchen window.
The following day I found our yellow cat dead in the back yard. His mouth was full of mom's pancakes. Mom never lived it down.
Neither, of course, did the cat.