A Steady Stone

A smooth, dark river stone was holding the pantry door open just a crack. I trotted over softly, pausing to watch how the morning sun warmed its flat grey surface. Taking a slow step forward, I nudged the rounded flank with my front paw. It did not roll away like the spools or beads; it stayed steady and firm against the floorboards. I leaned my shoulder gently against its cool, solid curve, listening to the quiet hum of the house. It felt nice to share the sunny corner with something so calm and still.