A Clue in the Crate

I squeezed through the propped fence board and stepped out onto the alley gravel. The corridor was still and clear. I marched four paces to the weathered wooden crate resting against the brick wall. Wedged deep into a split between two rough pine slats was a sliver of faded yellow ribbon. Planting my paws firmly in the pebbles, I gripped the cloth edge with both paws and pulled with steady leverage. It eased free with a soft scrape of dried moss. A flexible cloth measuring tape, stamped with bold black inch marks just like Papa’s postcard. I smoothed the yellow tape along my denim bib. The trail is holding firm.