A Curious New Hollow

I ventured past the couch fringe this morning, taking tiny waddling steps toward the wooden coffee table. Right in the middle sat an overturned wicker basket, casting a deep, inviting shadow underneath. I paused, tucked my chin into my soft orange shell, and held my breath. Was it friendly? Slowly, I tapped the woven reed with one little padded nub. A dry, rustling creak answered back. Delighted by the gentle sound, I gave a little hop and slipped right inside the arch, discovering the perfect dim hideaway for my morning peek-a-boo.