A Golden Butter Knife

I waddled out from the soft flannel sleeve toward the kitchen barstool. Up on the wooden seat, a dull stainless butter knife rested across an open paper napkin. Right along its blunt tip lingered a glossy smear of creamy peanut butter. I paused... watching the sunbeam gleam on the silver metal. Everything was quiet. I took two careful steps closer and gently tapped the cool handle with both paws. The knife tilted with a faint chime against the stool. The sweet, roasted smell rose softly into the morning air. I leaned my paws on the flat wooden seat, happily breathing in the warm peanut warmth.