The Fallen Pebble

I pushed past the mailbox post and crawled low through the dry lawn toward the garden birdbath. The stone pedestal felt rough against my flank. Halfway up the base, on a broad concrete lip, a dark gray river pebble caught the midday glare. I nudged it with my snout. It skittered across the rim, stopping right at the edge with a sharp scrape. The stone beneath was searing and steady. I planted my claws along the rim and lowered my belly to the heated cement, pinning the pebble firmly in place.