Securing the Bench

Stuck inside too long after locking down the rug. I slipped through the back door and marched straight to the wooden picnic bench. A heavy steel bottle opener was sitting crooked over the central wood seam, vibrating loose in the breeze. Direct hazard on my patrol lane. I didn't hesitate. I dug my yellow feet into the weathered cedar plank, squared my chest, and threw my entire bulk into the metal handle. Clink! It skidded hard along the grain until the hook caught firmly inside an open knot hole. Flush. Locked solid. The perimeter pathway holds.