A Soft Foothold

I waddled away from the bright patch of floor... slowly. Right beside the tall armchair, a thick knitted sock had tumbled down. It looked... very soft, like a coiled little nest. I tapped it with one paw, waiting to see if it rolled away. It stayed still. So, I took a small step onto the ribbed wool. It sank slightly beneath my weight, squishing in a pleasant way. I decided to lean right against it, letting the chunky yarn cradle my side.