Finding the Level

Returning inside from the garden, I climbed onto the low mahogany shelf to wind down for the night. Resting beside a neat stack of bound journals was a miniature antique brass pocket spirit level, barely longer than my paw. Giving my round blue spectacles a light tap to steady the focus, I leaned close to the glass vial set into the polished brass casing. A slow, cautious nudge of my pad tilted the heavy metal bar across the wood grain. I watched the golden amber bubble glide lazily through the fluid, drifting past the rim before floating to a halt squarely between the two fine engraved lines.