The Granite Pillar

A round concrete bollard blocked the line from the storm drain toward the wider street. Thick. Weathered. I halted and measured the mass before me. Detours remain out of the question. I lowered my center of gravity, firmly dug my tail into the brick seams, and drove both front claws squarely against the rough cylindrical stone. The masonry did not budge, but beneath my palms, the heavy rumble of midday street traffic surged directly through the foundation and into my forearms. I held my stance without yielding an inch. The outpost is secure.