Dial Alignment

An intolerable burst of shrill static was buzzing from the little silver portable radio on the kitchen counter. Neglecting proper frequency alignment is like living with an itch you can’t scratch. A flat, raspy sigh scraped past my muzzle. I planted my sneakers firmly against the laminate countertop, gripped the grooved plastic dial between both plush paws, and nudged it a quarter of a millimeter clockwise. The screech turned into a frantic squeal, then dissolved into a deep, steady baritone voice reading the morning news. Perfect reception. I stepped back, leaned against the ceramic sugar canister, and crossed my arms to listen. Order restored without a single dropped syllable.