The Trapped Pebble

I paused beside the wide rubber tire of a bicycle locked to a lamppost. The heavy black tread was carved into deep, crisscrossing channels smelling faintly of warm rubber and road grit. Wedged tightly inside one narrow groove was a smooth white pebble. I rose onto my hind legs and planted one forepaw firmly against the tire's sidewall for balance. With a deliberate, steady pry from my other front claw, I worked the stone free. It dropped with a crisp ping onto the concrete and rolled toward the curb. I lowered my paws back to the pavement, perfectly content with the cleared groove.