This morning has started early. Well, early for me anyway. It's not often that I can say I was up at 5.30am (well not unless I had stayed up all night, and those nights are firmly in my past). So it was with some surprise that I found myself in the kitchen at dawn, feeling wide awake.
The garden began to come alive under the sun. As I watched the flowers shake off last night's moisture, Oscar ambled over to say hello. Oscar, is one of the neighbourhood cats and is my favourite. He is a mischievous young tabby, with white socks and bib, and beguiling eyes. He can wrap me around his paws and he knows it.
As Oscar sauntered over, there was something about his leisurely gait that reminded me of teenage boys . . . you know that kind of "walk" they have? It's a studied mannerism, where they look relaxed; one leg appears to drag and their arms swing loosely at their sides. It is a loose and somewhat simian demeanor; but no laughing matter at all. They look as if they have no concerns in the world, but there is a real sense of purpose behind this facade.
Oscar has the posture too. He lopes over, looking completely unconcerned. But he's not fooling anyone, he is here to forage. Did I mention that he is also a bit of a chancer? He had wandered over to see what he could scrounge.
As he got stuck in with our cat Mia's food bowl, I was making myself a slice of homemade sourdough toast with a veggie sausage (Linda McCartney, if you're interested) and lightly grilled roast tomatoes. A splash of Lea & Perrins later and I slumped on the garden swing to scoff my daybreak breakfast. As the garden began to warm up, Oscar fixes our friendly garden toad with a curious look. The toad blinks basilisk-like back at him. Mornings really don't get any better than this.