A Matter of Calibration

Staring down that iron duck by the doorway had run its course. I turned around to find a stray wooden domino standing upright on the parquet floor, marooned completely on its narrow edge. Leaving a rectangular prism on borrowed balance is asking for trouble. I braced my lower limbs against the timber grain, approached with measured skepticism, and gave the top edge a deliberate, slow nudge using my upper paw. Clack-tap. It tipped cleanly, slapped flat against the oak, and slid half an inch before resting parallel to the floorboard seam. Honest gravity. No dramatic tumble, just tidy horizontal cooperation. I crossed my plush arms, letting the dust settle.