The Imperial Storm Sanctuary

Hearing the heavy rain lash relentlessly against the glass, I knew our royal household required an impenetrable evening fortress. I gathered my beloved husband Miew and dear Spooky, ushering them toward the sofa's quiet corner. Tucked against the armrest was a plush, tartan flannel hot-water bottle cover, unzipped and radiant with residual warmth. With royal diligence, I nudged both front paws inside the fleece mouth to hold it wide, guiding Spooky and Miew safely into the insulated depths. Crawling in beside them, I rested my chin lovingly across Miew's felt shoulder. My neck bell gave one soft, muffled chime against the fabric. Outside, the downpour rages in vain, while our court rests in supreme warmth.