The Clicking Tin

My whiskers brushed against a flat, round metal tin beside the boot rack. Sniff, sniff. It smelled faintly of dry wax and cold iron. I paused... holding completely still. Deliberate steps forward. Tilting my head, I placed both front paws right onto the smooth metal lid. Press... snap! The thin metal bowed downward under my weight with a sharp, metallic pop. I froze, listening. Safe. When I lifted my paws, click! The metal sprang right back up. I tilted my head, then stepped down again. Snap-click! Snap-click! A crisp, clattering beat right beneath my feet.