The Swaying Twine

I slipped out past the porch steps and followed the warm slate path until a length of rough brown twine caught my eye. It dangled from the lower slat of the garden trellis, swaying in a lazy little arc just above the clover. I stretched up on my hind legs and patted the dangling knot with both paws, bringing it down to chest height. The jute felt wonderfully coarse and scratchy against my soft pads, smelling faintly of sun-warmed earth and dried herbs. Tucking the frayed tail beneath my chin, I let the trellis hold me steady in the bright midday quiet.