A Firm Foothold

My fingers gripped the rough surface. When I tested my weight, the joints in my wrists held firm. Slowly, I flexed my right boot and pressed it against a smooth brown pebble embedded in the mortar. It held. The breeze stirred the leaves beyond, but up here against the stones, the vantage point was steady. I paused to scan the perimeter, resting both paws firmly against the rock.