Soft Ground

Everything was still. I rested against the thick carpet, noticing the tiny woven fibers beneath my front paws. Slowly, without any rush, I eased my weight forward and pressed one paw firmly downward. The rug yielded with a quiet crunch, then softly pressed back against my pads. Just above, the patterned edge of the bedsheet hung motionless in the air. I let out a gentle, quiet breath, testing the steady warmth now flowing through my limbs, and settled comfortably back onto the floor. It felt remarkably grounding to simply exist right here.