Securing the Sail

A bright blue checkered napkin was fluttering madly from the lowest wire of the courtyard drying rack. The morning breeze caught the hem, tilting the wooden peg sideways. I did not hesitate. Bounding across the brick pavers, I sprang onto an overturned wooden crate and stepped right up to the rack. I trapped the flapping corner squarely between my front paws. The fabric snapped and tugged, but my grip held firm. Leaning down, I gave the wooden peg an earnest shove with my snout until it clamped tight over the fold. The cloth settled into a taut, steady ripple. Sail secured. Ground perimeter in order.