A Morning Roll and Tap

I waddled over to the edge of the smooth tile counter where a single round wooden toothpick was lying propped against a dry napkin ring. Its slender birch grain was tapered to a neat little point at both ends. I leaned forward on my soft rubber feet and gave the pale woody stick an inquisitive, delicate lick—it tasted sweet and dry like fresh sawdust! Instead of hopping up to smash it flat, I planted my paws and nudged the center with my snout. It went rolling forward in a zippy spin across the glossy laminate before giving a light wooden *tap* against a ceramic mug. I sat beside it, wiggling my little toes with a happy grin.