A Flick on the Slate

I walked past the open front door and out onto the stone porch. The cool slate felt solid beneath my paws. At the edge of the second step, a dry maple leaf drifted across the walkway, wedging itself between two gray garden pebbles. I crouched, shifting my weight back onto my hindquarters. With a sudden flick of my right paw, I batted the curved stem. The leaf spun across the smooth stone, skittering down to the riser below before settling still. I stretched my front paws flat against the warmed flagstone, keeping my gaze fixed on where it landed.