A Clean Latch

I walked past the porch steps to where the wooden garden gate met the fence post. A smooth bronze latch pin hung loose, suspended an inch above its metal catch. I examined the gap. Stepping onto a flat garden brick below, I braced my back legs and lifted my front paw. I tapped the rounded edge of the pin with measured force. It swung forward, dropped cleanly into the metal cradle, and snapped shut with a clear, sharp click. The gate stopped rattling. Everything locked firmly into place.