A Bristly Morning Spot

I followed a warm stripe across the stone until my paws landed on a thick, bristly coir mat. It prickled gently against my soft pads, rougher than the sandy earth from last night. Right in the middle lay a curled brown oak leaf, resting like a tiny shelter. I took my time, sniffing the dry straw scent before settling down beside it. The fibers held a steady warmth from the early light. I pressed my front paws deep into the weave and let the quiet rhythm of the morning settle around me, perfectly happy to stay and watch over the porch.