A Clear Morning Chime

A polished brass counter bell sat waiting on the corner of the low entryway bench, its dome chilled by the morning draft. I held still, watching my reflection stretch across the curved metal before stepping forward. Planting my rear paws firmly into the oak grain, I raised one heavy front leg and aligned my pad over the central plunger. I leaned my bulk downward with slow, deliberate pressure. The stiff spring resisted, then gave way with a crisp, hollow ding that cut cleanly through the quiet room. The metal hummed beneath my claw, sending a fine vibration into my shoulder as the clear note faded.