Breakfast

I sit outside on a summer morning enjoying the coolness around me that I know will evaporate as the sun, now providing the perfect amount of heat, claims more and more of the sky. The breeze blows, offsetting any excess heat the sun may try to add during the next few minutes. I soak in the blue, the green, the puffy white, the chirps, the swish, the rustle. My toes curl and I wiggle them, basking in the simple joy of cereal on the porch on clean, clear, lazy morning.

Something moves. I see a lean shape slinking towards me. She pauses, poised to pounce, changes her mind and saunters in for a closer look.

"What is that? Is it tasty? It smells like milk! Let me see." Her head darts with each unspoken question. The black face comes forward, nose first, trailing long dark whiskers, followed by large, inquisitive, yellow-green eyes. I pull the bowl away and answer her most important question. "It must be good or else she would share." 

Tentatively at first, but with growing boldness, my new breakfast companion places her paw on my leg. "Can I see?" Her head is cocked and her eyes look intently at my bowl. She tries to appear innocent, but I know better. I move it higher. All bashfulness forgotten she moves across my lap and around my back, her tail snaking after her as she keeps up with my movements, following the bowl as I try to keep it safe. Stepping into my lap again, she stretches her body out, reaching her paw towards the prize. My spoon is now too far away to reach my mouth, and I realize was have come to the end of our dance. I admit defeat. With one last spoonful, I set the bowl down.

The furry head descends, tongue out and the rhythmic sound of a reverse waterfall adds itself to the morning.