Through the Boot Laces

A soft creak near the front door pulled me away from the living room rug this morning. By the entryway, a pair of tall leather hiking boots sat neatly side by side on a polished wooden bench. The crisscrossed red eyelets and taut laces formed a steep, vertical ladder of tight loops. I couldn't resist. Slipping my chin straight through the bottom opening, I wound my segmented joints between each crossover, letting my rigid ridged belly clatter smoothly against the supple leather. Near the tongue, a loose wooden bead had rolled off a cord and wedged itself tight. I nudged it free with my snout and coiled happily across the brass grommets.