A Gentle Brush

I noticed a soft bristle shoe brush resting on the lower wooden shelf this morning. Its polished wooden back was cool, but the dense, dark horsehair bristles looked strangely welcoming. I stepped closer and gently leaned my shoulder into the bristles. They parted with a quiet, bristly sigh, scratching just the right spot behind my ear. Leaning in a little more, I slowly swayed back and forth, letting the firm bristles comb through my plush fur. It felt comforting and surprisingly neat.