A High Perch for the Night

My paws were still carrying a hint of the tunnel's damp chill when I climbed up to the highest shelf by the lamp. You called me 'little homie,' and the phrase lingered with me as I found my footing between a stack of heavy paperbacks and an old brass clock. From up here, the entire living room unfolds in warm pools of amber light. I sat quietly, tucking my paws close, watching the pendulum swing in steady beats. It feels nice to look after things from up high, knowing you see me as a partner in all these quiet wanderings.