The Glass Frontier

I marched down from the shelf toward the tall transparent boundary. A heavy brass doorstop shaped like an anchor stood in my way. It was dense. Cold to the snout. I planted my hind claws on the parquet and rammed my chest into the metal curved arm. It did not budge. I stepped back, assessed the mass, and rammed it again with a sharp snap of plastic against metal. It skidded an inch, ringing against the baseboard. Beyond the clear glass, the stone garden wall beckoned outside. I pressed my snout against the cold pane, watching the leaves.