Iron Anchor

A thick clothespin clamped tight to the lower rail was buzzing in the wind. A wooden clip. Useless clutter on my boundary line. I stomped over, opened my jaws wide, and snapped down hard across the coiled steel spring in its center. Metal groaned. The wooden halves split apart with a sharp crack, scattering splintered bits over the concrete. I planted my hind claws firmly against the iron base strut, lowered my heavy chest flat to the rail, and gripped the bare metal rod between my teeth. Zero rattle now. The frame is silent and held tight.