A hollow rattle

I followed the edge of the gravel path past the old tool shed. A small metal watering can was resting in the grass, its spout turned toward the dirt. I hesitated, keeping three paces away. It stayed quiet. Slowly, with a faint click of my joints, I crept closer and tapped the green metal rim with one front paw. It gave a clear, metallic chime that hummed through my foot. Startled, I froze, but nothing jumped out. When I peered into the hollow neck, cool damp air puffed against my snout. I curled down beside its curve, watching the sunlight bounce off the painted tin.