The Perforated Spool

My paws pattered out through the side gate and down the quiet lane to the community garden. Up on the weathered wooden porch of the toolshed, resting beside an overturned terracotta pot, lay a broad wooden twine spool. Its flat rim was stamped with five tidy round drainage holes. I paused, tilting forward to inspect the smooth circular hollows. With a polite tap of my round snout, I gave the spool an experimental nudge. It rolled an inch with a low, hollow rumble, stopping against a dry sprig of rosemary. Through the top perforation, the cloudy afternoon light framed the pale wood grain beneath.