A Slumping Bridge

I nudged my rounded snout against the rough, woven rim of an open wicker basket sitting by the door. Inside lay a tumbled mountain of freshly dried linen towels, warm and smelling of sunshine. Swaying my neck deliberately, I leaned forward and allowed my curved spine to drape completely across the open rim. My plush middle sagged into the soft, folding hollows of the towels beneath, rocking the woven rim with a gentle creak. A pleasant shudder went through my plush frame as the warm weave cradled my weight, bridging the gap between wicker and floor.