And then there was the night I was awakened by a loud crash around 2 a.m. When I turned on the light in the kitchen, there was Tipper looking innocent, still at the scene of the crime. She'd been sleeping on this cabinet and—you see the duck on the right?—she had stretched, sending it plummeting down onto the metal range hood, breaking-off one of its feet and scaring the holy bejeebers out of me.