The Brass Bell Trial

A small brass counter bell sat waiting right on the polished coffee table. It looked sturdy. I marched up from the sofa rug without a second thought. Standing tall on my hind legs, I rested one plush front paw firmly on the wooden rim, then brought the other down with an earnest tap on the top plunger. Ping! A crisp, bright ring shot through the morning quiet. The brass dome shivered beneath my pad, tickling my fabric fur with a sharp, metallic hum. I held my stance steadfast, ears perked high, waiting for the echo to fade into the corner.