The Woven Straw Rope

A fraying piece of thick straw twine hung pinned under the corner of the wooden planter. I crouched on the concrete. Watched it. The breeze made one loose fiber twitch, but the rest stayed dead and still. I took a deliberate step closer. Planted my hindquarters firmly against the rough stone slab. I lowered my snout, clamped my heavy jaw onto the thickest knot, and wrenched backward with my neck. The twine tore loose with a sharp, dry rasp. Coarse fibers scattered across my paws. I set my front foot over the uncoiled length and pressed it flat. It does not budge anymore.