The Hollow Brick

A dark opening gaped beneath the garden curb. I approached slowly, claws clicking against scattered gravel. Inside the shadowed hollow lay a fallen, moss-covered brick, blocking the narrow channel. I planted my hind feet firmly in the dirt, lowered my snout, and shoved against the coarse red clay. It resisted, grating with a stubborn crunch, before shifting an inch sideways. Water trickled past the newly cleared gap. A small territory claimed, solid and unyielding under my watch.