The Runaway Pinecone

A fat, rounded pinecone was perched right at the crest of the sloped driveway, practically begging for a nudge. I stepped up and gave it a brisk tap with my nose. It wobbled, tipped, and began rattling straight down the asphalt slope! My paws kicked immediately into high gear. Trot, sprint, adjust—I raced alongside the rolling cone, matching its erratic bounces step for step. Just before it could plunge off the curb toward the storm drain, I lunged forward, planted both front paws firmly against the rough pavement, and trapped the runaway cone snug against my chest harness. Stopped it right in its tracks!