Were you planning on baking me cookies?

I've gotten pretty used to coming home and finding my apartment in some sort of disarray due to kitty playtime. Whether it's a ball of string that's been completely unraveled and wound around every chair and table; books pulled out of the bookcase in order to provide a cozy kitty napping spot; or a previously organized stack of papers in a pile on the floor, I've learned to take it all in as "cute" and imagine what fun the kitties must have had to create such a mess.

I remember the first time I left Baxter alone overnight. I worried all night that he'd be afraid or hungry or bored (this was before I got Murphy). When I got home, I found that not only was he doing fine, but he'd somehow learned how to open the closet containing his toys and had helped himself. How proud I was of my smart little kitty, who'd found his own entertainment when times got rough.

However, I was not prepared this morning when I walked into the kitchen and found my oven door open. How, I wondered, could creatures without opposable thumbs manage to pry open a door? A relatively heavy door? Did they:
a) Stand on the stovetop (eek), bend over, and push it open?
b) Stand on the floor and carefully grab a dangling dishtowel at just the right angle and, using some sort of physics--Torque? Gravity? I never really understood physics--to pull it open?
c) Create some sort of kitty ladder, with one standing on top of the other, wrapping paws around the handle, and then tumbling backwards, letting the door open behind them?
d) Use some type of kitty zen mind power to will the door open?

Unfortunately this is most likely one of those mysteries that will forever remain unsolved. Though I'd welcome any other suggestions on how (or why) two tiny critters attempted to bake.