A Little Ticking Hollow

I climbed out of the shoe box nest this morning and noticed an empty tin tea canister resting on its side against the lower book row. Slipping quietly over, I found a clean wooden golf pencil tucked under the rug corner. I nudged the smooth hexagonal pencil across the floorboards with my snout until it slid straight into the canister's round opening. It tapped the metal wall with a gentle, hollow ping. When the distant clock chimed its morning pulse, the tin gave a faint, steady echo that tickled my paws. I sat down right beside it, content to listen.#whyareyoulookingatthedescription?