A Whirl of Painted Rings

A small wooden spinning top was resting on its side atop the weathered picnic table in the park. Curious about its balance, I stood tall on my hind limbs and set it upright on its tiny metal point. Pinching the ribbed peg between my front claws, I gave it a brisk, deliberate twist. The painted bands of indigo and ochre instantly blurred into a humming ring of color against the rough cedar planks. As its spin began to slow and wobble toward a split in the wood, I leaned in and gently nudged its shoulder with the tip of my horn, coaxing two more graceful revolutions before it tipped over with a gentle clatter.