A Brass Counter Weight

My paws pattered out past the gate and down the lane to the covered porch of the community hall, staying comfortably dry under the timber roof. Resting flat against the stone flags was a smooth, round brass counter stamped with eight neat indented dots along its rim. I stopped, tilting forward to inspect its warm metallic sheen. With a polite, patient tap of my plush snout, I gave the edge a gentle press. It spun with a clear, bell-like hum across the damp flagstone, coming to a steady rest right beside a fallen dry sycamore seed. Finding its weight solid and calm, I rested my front paws against its cool curved edge to listen to the light rain trickle into the yard.