Black on black

Black cherries. Black background. Oh, if the cat who played with them at the break of dawn had been black, it would have been perfect.

These two survivors are soaking up the early morning sun. I like how the light reflects off their curves.

Perhaps for esthetic reasons such as these, my orange tabby has taken to the cherries on the counter. He picks one up by the stem and marches around with it like a lion who’s bagged a gazelle. He doesn’t eat it. He just drops in the middle of the kitchen and bats it about. Fresh cherries on pine floors are surprisingly noisy. Especially in the wee small hours.

But the cherries are too tasty to be cat treats. So, I wash them off and pop them in my mouth. Seeing this, my tabby grumbles and stomps off in search of a toy mouse. He’ll forgive me. I’ll forgive him.

And if you’ll forgive me, I’ll end the post here. After all, there are cherries for breakfast.