<i>Tap . . . tap . . . tap tap . . . tap . . . tap tap . . .</i><br/><br/>The incessant tapping noise had caused Anton to stir on the couch, though it did not fully wake him. His feline companion, however, had other ideas. Ideas of the investigative kind, of course, as what is a cat to do upon hearing a strange tapping sound? Sadly, but by no means surprisingly, Licorice was a slave to her curiousness. If the seemingly comatose human insisted on remaining couch-bound, why then, the cat of the house would take the proverbial bull by the horns and expose the source of the taps. Thus, earning plaudits and a never-ending supply of cat nip and kitty treats. Or so the cat hoped.<br/><br/>Rising from Anton, Licorice stretched first and then left the couch, trotting toward the cause of the persistent noise. She leapt onto the cushioned bench by a window, gazing up at the guilty party. Her movement from her owner had by now roused said owner from his slumber. As he approached her position, she turned toward him with an expression on her face that clearly said, “Oh,<i>now </i>you show up.”<br/><br/>“Whoa, where did that come from?” Anton asked, as he stared at the offending oak branch, while it still occasionally rapped against the window, an innocent victim of being caught in a breeze. Having lost interest, not to mention the “case” already being solved, Licorice removed herself from the bench and went in search of breakfast and a drink. “Gonna have to trim that,” Anton stated to an empty room, “before it has a chance to break the window.”<br/><br/>The clock on the wall read 8:22 in the a.m. Any oak tree pruning, it turned out, would have to wait its turn. A fresh pot of coffee was on his immediate agenda.