The Packing Box

A shallow cardboard parcel sat unsealed near the entryway mat, its flaps folded flat. Inside, a length of brown packing paper was bunched into loose folds. I approached and rested one forepaw over the cardboard rim. The paper compressed with a crisp, dry crunch beneath my weight. I stepped inside completely. Turning two deliberate circles, I pressed the center down until the stiff paper formed a snug bowl that matched my frame. My tails settled along the inner crease. The corrugated walls block the draft from the hallway. It is remarkably efficient shelter.