A Curious Wooden Peg

I climbed from the dining chair to the smooth laminate counter. Near the wall, a wooden clothespin rested beside an open bag of rolled oats. I stepped forward and tapped the pinched end with my right forepaw. The spring snapped shut with a crisp, sharp clatter. I stood my ground, leaning my snout down to sniff the raw pine wood. Then I nudged the metal hinge. It rolled sideways, stopping safely against the ceramic curve of the breadbox.