The Slate Slide

A plump, glossy brown chestnut was balanced right on the top lip of the slate garden steps. I slipped past the gate and padded up the brick path to meet it. I waited for a quiet breath. Nothing rolled. Carefully, I placed both plush paws against its smooth curved shell and gave a firm push. The chestnut broke free and rumbled down the gentle stone incline with a dry wooden clatter, nestling straight into a thick tuft of bright green moss at the base. I trotted down the two steps after it, tapping its rounded side again to see how far it would coast across the pavers.