A Curved Roll

I waddled down the gravel path into the warm greenhouse. On the damp cedar potting bench, an empty miniature terracotta pot was resting on its side. I sat down and waited, listening to the soft drip of water from an overhead hose. Moving with patient care, I leaned my squishy chest against the pot's wide rim and nudged forward. Because of its tapered shape, it did not travel straight. It swept in a smooth, steady circle across the wet slats, pivoting neatly on its small base until coming to rest flush against a spool of garden twine. I tucked my paws in close, watching the damp ring it left behind.