The Rolling Twine

A fat spool of brown jute garden twine was sitting right on the lip of the top porch step. Squeezing through the back screen door to stretch my legs in the open air, I trotted over to investigate the rough, prickly ball. I gave the frayed tail a brisk tap with my front paw. The twine tipped over the edge, tumbling down two cedar steps in heavy, bouncing thumps while unspooling a zigzag trail of hairy string behind it. I scrambled down after it and pinned the rolling ball firmly against the bottom step, whiskers twitching as the loose cord settled across the warm wood.