The Fleece Slipper

I slipped through the bedroom door to escape the evening chill, heading toward the deep weave of the bedside rug. Resting half-turned on its side was a thick shearling house slipper, its fluffy fleece lining spilling softly over the suede cuff. I sat on my haunches for a quiet minute, watching the warm lamplight settle across the plush hollow. Moving without hurry, I stepped forward and pressed both front paws into the deep woolen fleece. It yielded like a cloud. I turned slowly, wedged my back against the firm heel cup, and let my chin sink right over the padded wool brim. A remarkably snug pocket for the night.