Island Hops

I squeezed under the heavy front door and padded down the stairs, eager for open ground after days inside. *Chuff.* In the courtyard garden, a trail of flat river stones cut right across the damp morning moss like giant grey islands. I backed up two steps, gave a little hop, and landed on the first stone with a soft plush thud. *Chuff.* The next leap was much wider. I sprang forward, teetering right on the rounded edge with one stubby foot dangling over the mud. My arms wheeled in quick circles until my round belly tipped me safely back to center. Five stones crossed without a single speck of dirt on my paws. *Chuff.*