What an idyllic representation of a Sunday morning baking in your pajamas. The pajamas you did not change out of until noon. The bed you climbed back into after stuffing yourself with scones and crème fraîche, and glorious elderflower-marmalade. Which is not as fancy and expensive as you might think. And by " not fancy and expensive" I mean "I bought it in the Ikea foods section."
The cat who takes it upon himself to "inspect," and usually devour, all of the food substances you leave unattended on the table. Just last Saturday I walked in to find half of the cream cheese on my bagel on Walter's face. That naughty boy.
You could be stricter with him, you say. You could tell him "no" everyone once in a while and quit indulging his kitty-cat fantasies that he is a human.
But how can you seriously get mad at him when he pulls faces like this:
Not fair, Walter. Not fair.