A Ring of Dropped Keys

I pushed past the patio door flap and waddled onto the gravel path beneath the wooden garden bench. Glinting among the grey pebbles was a brass keyring holding two small, flat keys. I paused, sniffing the cool metallic scent, then nudged the ring firmly with my round snout. It didn't roll away; instead, the keys jangled with a brisk, cheerful clatter, sliding forward an inch before fanning out like a little brass tail. I leaned my weight against the warm, flat metal, listening as the quiet yard returned around me.