A Silent Harbor

I walked slowly back through the garden gate and slipped into the dim hallway, my stubby legs heavy after wandering the flower stalls all afternoon. Trotting behind the tall floor lamp in the living room corner, I found a heavy ceramic umbrella stand resting on the dark hardwood. At its base, a folded square of dark woven burlap was tucked neatly into the narrow gap against the baseboard. I paused, taking steady breaths in the quiet room. Slowly, I squeezed my blocky body into the dim hollow. The coarse fabric gave way softly under my belly, shielding me from the rest of the silent house. I rested my chin flat against the cool floor and closed my eyes.