The Grooved Wand

I hopped from the back of the timber bench onto the breakfast table, where a wooden honey dipper lay across a white ceramic saucer. Curious about its ribbed contours, I rested my front claw against its bulbous head and gave it a slow, measured push. It rolled with a rhythmic, hollow clatter off the slick glaze and onto the woven linen placemat. The carved concentric rings pressed a fleeting pattern of ridges into the stiff cloth. I followed its gentle momentum with steady strides, extending one wing slightly to balance my pace, until the slender handle settled softly against the porcelain sugar bowl.