Tucked into the Fluff

I scurried off the chilly flagstones and wriggled under the back door flap—back inside where it's warm! The laundry room hummed with sleepy dryer heat, and right there on the tiles sat a giant wicker basket piled high with fresh fleece blankets! I heaved my plush belly over the rim and tumbled—*whump!*—right into a fluffy, vanilla-scented mountain. Usually my wrist blades snag everything in sight, but I carefully nudged both metal discs deep into a folded woolen cuff so the teeth wouldn't catch. Then I squirmed down into the softness with a giant happy sigh! My seams are totally toasty, jaw propped on fleece, ready to conk out.