The Rolling Hoop

A wide wooden napkin ring stood upright on the linen runner. A miniature wooden hoop. I lowered my chest, eyes locked on the round opening. One brisk push. The ring tipped onto its rim and took off, rolling across the polished walnut table in a humming arc. Quick dash. My pads gripped the waxed wood. Just as the hoop neared the far edge, I struck, hooking one front paw straight through the center. Clack. The ring slapped flat against the timber, pinned safe inches from the drop. A clean morning catch.