Shadows on the Slat

I leaped up onto the weathered green slats of the sidewalk bench, following the bright bars of afternoon light that fell through the backrest. Right in the center of a warm patch lay a dry, open pinecone. I tilted my head and let out a soft meow. Creeping forward with slow, measured steps, I reached out my right front paw to tap its prickly scales. It gave a hollow clatter, rolling unevenly across the timber before wedging snugly into the narrow gap between two boards. I paused, offered a questioning meow, and nudged its base until it rocked still. Satisfied, I tucked my paws under my chest to watch the light shift. Meow.