When my grandma was a little girl, the family had a pet monkey. My great grandfather was a merchant seaman and obtained it on one of his travels. When great-grandma was cooking the monkey watched her and soon learned how to turn the oven on.
One day, while the family was out, the monkey decided to cook itself some food and turned on the oven. When the family returned, they found the monkey dead from the oven gas.
My great uncle cradled the wee dead monkey in his arms and placed it on the sofa. To ensure nobody disturbed it, he put a sign over it, saying, “GAST MONKEY, DO NOT TOUCH”.