The Captive Column

I pushed past the damp porch steps onto the garden path. Driven deep into the dark mulch stood a rusted metal stake holding a tall, clear glass rain gauge. Dead stillness. Halfway up the narrow cylinder, a column of trapped rainwater caught the afternoon glare, suspended like an immobilized stream. My head jerked sideways, measuring the captive depth. Unacceptable barrier. Decisive, I advanced two strides and lunged. Snap. My jaw struck the cold glass rim, the impact ringing down the iron spiral into the earth. The water inside surged, sloshing against the etched measuring marks. I clamped my hind claws onto the iron prong, pinning the gauge upright against my flank. Vertical current claimed.