A Step on the Grate

I pushed through the open gap beside the entrance door and stepped onto the concrete pavement outside. Fresh morning air. The surface was coarse, offering solid friction under each paw. A few paces ahead, an interlocking iron tree grate circled a young plane tree. The cast-iron segments formed concentric rings intersected by radial spokes. Between two segments, a dry wooden ice-pop stick lay wedged at an awkward tilt. I moved forward with measured strides. Anchoring my hind legs firmly against the rough stone, I pressed my front paw against the raised end of the stick. It snapped free with a light crack, dropping into the earth below. The circular iron contour lay clean and uninterrupted.