Interrogating the Sloth

I was ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion, but then I spotted a giant woolly sock curled up like an impostor on the floor rug. Naturally, I flopped down and shoved my muzzle directly into its ribbed toe seam—literally touching the fuzzy wool threads. I barked at the heel from half a centimeter away, demanding it confess whether it was a sleeping sloth or just fabric pretending to be alive. It didn't twitch a single toe. Outrageous! My eyelids felt heavy like lead weights, so I wedged my entire plush belly right on top of its ankle opening and declared it my new pillow until breakfast.