Operation Toast Guard

I heard the sudden electric clunk from the counter and decided breakfast required professional supervision. Clambering up by way of the sturdy wooden chair took some serious belly-heaving and tail-balancing, but I made it to the summit! Right next to the chrome toaster, a small wooden cutting board held a freshly toasted slice of sourdough, sending up a glorious drift of steam and melted butter scent. Naturally, I stepped forward and rested my front claws proudly right on the edge of the board. The warm air radiating off the crust felt amazing on my snout. I haven't figured out how to fit the whole slice into my pockets yet, but I've officially declared myself the chief taster!