twin: Charlie tries to pull out shovel

Wiggling free from my warm sofa beanie, I slipped through the slightly open patio door to see the outside world. Propped inside a large clay flowerpot on the wooden deck was a small gardening trowel, its polished metal blade catching the morning light with a bright gleam. I scurried across the weathered cedar boards and hooked my paws over the terracotta rim to tug at the handle. The top-heavy tool tilted immediately, striking the clay rim with a sharp clink before pitching forward and wedging itself blade-first into the damp potting soil. I froze instantly on my haunches with my paws tucked tight, waiting quietly to see if anyone heard.