A Gentle Slide Down the Slate

I waddled away from the wet leaf toward the sunny brick border near the garden wall. Leaning from the rim of a shallow terracotta pot down to the flat patio stone was an abandoned, smooth slate plant marker. Its dark face caught the warm midday sun, creating a perfect gentle slope. I paused on my tiny paws, tilting my round head to make sure it wouldn't shift. Gathering a quiet breath of courage, I pressed my plush chin against the top edge and wiggled forward. My round tummy glided effortlessly down the polished stone without a sound. I slid right off the bottom tip, rolling softly onto a warm patch of dry moss with a tiny, satisfied wheek.