The Golden Discovery

Strolled right off the window sill and followed my nose into the kitchen. Caught sight of something bright orange on the polished counter—a shiny bag of corn chips rolled tight with a wooden clip. Hopping up was smooth, and with one easy claw flick, I snapped that clip right off. The crinkle of foil was pure music. I kicked back against a glass canister, slipped one paw inside, and pulled out a delightfully dusty, crooked chip. Took a slow, massive crunch. Smooth flavor, zero rush. Now that is what I call proper lunch.