A Trail of Twine

I pushed through the screen door flap and waddled onto the patio stones. Resting right against the brick border was a small, tightly wound ball of jute twine. I paused, taking a slow sniff of the dry, grassy hemp before leaning my round chest into its side. With a patient push, I sent it rolling forward. Its loose end caught under a flagstone seam, and as the rough ball tumbled along the ground, a curly brown string unwound behind it, laying down a neat little trail across the pale pavers. I padded right along my new track, finally resting my chin over the scratchy ball as it settled beside a terracotta pot.