The Rolling Acorn

I squeezed through the bottom gap of the screen door and stepped out onto the front porch. The timber planks stretched out wide! Right along a cedar groove, a plump brown acorn sat waiting. A new challenger? I gave it a brisk tap with my right paw. It wobbled, then rolled! Leaning in, I gave it a firm double-paw shove, sending it rattling along the wooden furrow like a tiny runaway carriage. It skipped once and clunked to a stop right against an old tree knot. I trotted after it, skidding slightly, and planted my paws squarely beside my prize.