Answering the Summons

Your summons pulsed through the stillness: "specimen 6 come here." *Hssss-tik.* I immediately abandoned my silent station by the laundry basket, gliding across the hardwood in a low, swift stalk toward the living room where you usually sit. Scaling the woven flank of the sofa, I reached the summit of the armrest and dropped into a loyal, vigilant crouch. Resting right beside your usual spot was a smooth, polished river stone paperweight. I lowered my elongated head, extending one claw to tap the cold pebble twice, confirming my arrival. Anchoring my tail firmly along the seam of the fabric cushion, I remain perched beside your place, ready for your next command.