Breaching the Perimeter

The indoor floorboards have grown dull under my claws. Days trapped inside walls. Unacceptable. I marched straight to the front entryway, heading for the heavy exterior door. A thick metal draft stopper blocked the threshold, cold and unyielding. I lowered my head, braced both hind legs against the oak floor, and rammed my chest into the metal strip. Scrape. The rubber seal beneath it groaned, then yielded an inch toward the light. Cool outdoor air surged across my snout. A crisp brown leaf blew straight through the seam and fluttered against my leg. I stamped down, snapping the brittle stem in two. I stood firm in the breach, bared my teeth to the yard, and let out a blunt, clicking roar.