Coffee by Chessie

Hi There Frankie!

   What’s doing with you this lazy summer day?  I’ve just been hanging around my Mom’s desk, sleeping on her computer router – its nice and warm and hums and vibrates a very little bit. Sweet.  She’s stepped away from the desk for a few minutes... so I thought I would tell you about my newest discovery = coffee.

   Every morning since forever, after Mom and I have our breakfasts (she feeds me first, of course) she makes this pot of dark brown stuff.  It smells interesting, I can’t quite describe it, sorta nutty and sweet.  When she turns on the machine that makes it, which sits on the kitchen counter – the same counter that I am NOT allowed on! – it gurgles and makes all manner of noise and hisses steam and then there is a big loud finishing noise and it stops.  Mom pours the liquid in a big mug and takes it into my sunny room and sits in MY comfy chair and reads the newspaper – another fun thing to play with, which I will tell you about some other time.

   Anyway, this has been happening almost every morning for forever... as long as we’ve shared my sunny room.  Well, one morning a couple of weeks ago, Mom got up to stop the black thing on the kitchen counter from ringing – it’s so annoying!  She stayed in the kitchen and talked into the thingy for a long time, so I got back up in my comfy chair and sniffed at the brown liquid in Mom’s mug.

   The warm steam from the hot liquid tickled my noise, but it wasn’t too hot ‘cause their wasn’t much brown stuff left.  Just a little in the very bottom, so I pushed my head in the mug to see if I could reach it with my tongue – it did smell wonderful, different than anything I’ve ever had and in the cup the flavor seemed intense. But I got my head almost all the way into the cup and was just about to taste this mysterious liquid – when Mom came back into the room!  I heard her yell, but the smells in the mug were so lovely and I didn’t want to stop – my head was snugly almost to the bottom – my whole face was inside the mug.  Mom sat down and gently pulled my head out of the mug and said, very sternly "Coffee isn’t for kitties!"  So now I know it’s called ‘coffee’ – it sure does smell nice, and I still want to taste it, I’ll just have to wait for that thingy to ring again and take Mom away from her coffee mug!