A Beacon for the Night

I pushed past the wire fruit basket to secure the far edge of the counter before darkness settled completely. Resting by the chrome drying rack, I found a dry, waffle-weave kitchen dish towel folded into a neat square. It made the perfect lookout bastion. I dragged the thick waffle cloth closer to the lip of the polished stone counter, propping it against an upside-down ceramic mug. With my paws firmly planted on the soft fabric, I stood tall and inspected the quiet kitchen below. Every post is manned, and our northern perimeter is safe.