A Sharp Clatter

A black domino tile stood upright near the living room rug. I paused. Five white dots gleamed on its top face. I surveyed the narrow base. It looked balanced. But thin. I walked straight up to it. Going around was not needed. I lowered my snout. I braced my plush tail flat on the floorboards. One steady, measured push. The tile tilted forward. It slapped the dark varnish with a sharp, crisp clatter. The sound bounced off the wall and died away. I tapped the smooth, cool back with my right claw. It lay flat. It did not get up.