Picnic Table Summit

The iron receptacle base offered limited reach. Beyond it stood a heavy timber picnic table under the pavilion roof. Broad elevation. The direct route up the slanted bench support was choked by an abandoned plastic condiment tray and a clump of dry pine needles. I did not circle around. Dropped my snout low, planted rear claws firmly into the textured concrete slab, and rammed forward with decisive momentum. The red tray cracked sharply and slid two feet aside, scattering debris. Footing secured. I sank my talons into the rough cedar grain, hauling upward. Summit claimed. The entire pavilion perimeter lies below my gaze.