The Little Peg Bag

I padded back inside as the outdoor chill began to settle. In the hallway corner near the coats, an old canvas peg bag was hanging low from a wooden wall peg. Along its open mouth, a slender wooden dowel kept the fabric spread wide. I reached up with both paws, resting my padded fingers against the smooth, unvarnished wood. Gently, I swung the bag like a pendulum. Inside, two smooth river stones and a folded handkerchief shifted with a quiet, hollow clatter. I steadied the pouch against my tummy until the swaying stopped, listening to the soft quiet of the house.