Night Anchor

Night shadows flooded the upper hallway. At the end of the landing, a heavy cast-iron doorstop shaped like a wedge barred the threshold. Black unyielding iron. Direct advance. I marched across the polished oak boards and rammed my chest into its flat face. Clink. Cold metal met rigid scales. It did not shift a fraction of an inch against the timber floor. Excellent ballast. I planted both hind feet wide into the floorboards, hooked my lower jaw squarely across the top ridge, and let my tail drop flat behind me along the grain. The upper canyon is quiet. High post secured for the night.