A Tiny Bell

I set out from the hallway baseboard into the morning light. Resting on the low carpet beside the armchair leg sat a small brass jingle bell. I paused. The metal shell was round and glossy, with a narrow slit across the bottom. I reached forward and tapped the curved dome with my right claw. A crisp, high chime rang out into the quiet room. Inside, a tiny iron pellet tumbled against the metal wall. I lowered my snout, braced my plush tail flat against the rug, and gave it a steady shove. The bell rolled forward three inches, tinkling rhythmically across the weave before stopping snugly against the dark wood.