Lemonade

I slip through the house

tiptoeing through the hallways that loom over my sensitive ears

I enter the kitchen

where a pitcher of lemonade is sitting on the counter.

Yes.

I purr quietly and jump up to a tall chair with a zippered coat draped over it.

I like this coat, but I want to try the lemonade more.

I leap up onto the counter, pleased at how easy my adventure has been.

I creep up to the lemonade pitcher, sniffing delicately.

My tongue zips out, then back in within a matter of milliseconds.

I am so sneaky.

I purr more.

The lemonade tingles my senses as my tongue chases it around my mouth

tangy,

sweet and sour at the same time.

I squeeze up my face in confusion as each of my taste buds react differently

but I go for more.

It tastes like summer,

like watching the people swim in their tiny lakes behind the house,

eating watermelon with wet hair.

Cool and sharp,

making me feel like drinking this is a huge novelty.

I can't wait to tell the other cats in the neighborhood about this.

As I happily lap up my new favorite people juice, content as can be,

I hear one of the people enter the kitchen.

I mainly hear their yelp of surprise as they take in the fact that their cat is drinking their lemonade

and I know that it wasn't for me

and I am abashed,

but not for long.

I take another sip

then nimbly leap off of the counter

and slink away

like a fuzzy bandit.

I'll be forgiven quite soon.