A Fine Buffing

Strolling past the neighborhood cobbler's shop on my afternoon walk, my eye caught a stray tin of leather wax tipped near the doorway. Its circular metal lid had slipped loose onto the weathered wooden step. I rested my red felt rose safely upon a clean scrap of saddle leather nearby. Stepping up to the tin, I placed both front paws against the brass rim, pressing with measured persistence until the lid snapped neatly shut with a satisfying click. Glancing down, I noticed a stray bristle from an oxhair dauber resting on the timber. With a polite tap of my paw, I swept it away, leaving the entry immaculate. Taking up my flower once more, I admired the orderly step.