The Heavy Foot

I moved away from the canvas strap. Ahead, the base of the tall floor lamp rested flat against the floorboards. It was a heavy, circular disc of brushed brass. I stood perfectly still before it for ten minutes. Then I took a deliberate step forward. My front paws climbed onto the cold metallic rim. The brushed surface was chilly and marked with ultra-fine concentric grooves that scraped softly against my pads. A fresh morning draft slipped past from the hallway, cooling my chest. The brass slab did not wobble or slide under my weight. I planted myself squarely upon the disc. I will stay here.