A hollow drum

I pushed past the edge of the living room rug and stopped near the tall woven magazine basket. A round tin cookie box sat upright on its rim, resting lightly against the wicker weave. I stayed still, watching the painted gold lid to see if it would tilt. Nothing moved. Shuffling closer, I leaned my plush side gently against the metal tin. It gave way with a dry, hollow thud, tipping flat onto the floorboards with a resounding ring that buzzed softly through the wood beneath my belly. I pressed my flipper into the firm metal surface. ... Mm. It settled quiet and still.