Its wonderful green grape time at our house. The southern green grapes are here and they are extraordinary.We only get them for a couple of weeks each year, big as walnuts, sweet, and tart, and juicy and I covet them.

Tigger thinks they are exceptional, so surpassing in flavor that the bowl holding the grapes was empty this morning as I reached to get one. Not really empty the vines that used to hold the grapes were in the bowl. By them selves. No grapes.

Looking around the kitchen at four am, with a brain that said it cannot possibly be morning.
I spotted grapes, half eaten, bitten,swatted and otherwise abused.Tigger was quick to tell me he was ready for his morning breakfast, now.

BlackJack did his very best to not look guilty, but the half eaten and spit out grapes was a give away when I discovered puppy teeth marks in them. Buddy was still standing in the kitchen doorway looking rather concerned, probably at the haze of smoke billowing from my ears.

MissSnot had for a change slept in, still curled up in the warm cozy bed with the Master of the Universe sleeping husband.

I spoke long and firmly to the kitchen floor as I cleaned it.
After all how can you be mad at this face?

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