A Gentle Bounce

I clicked out of the kitchen into the quiet hall, looking for a fresh spot. Halfway down the corridor, nestled against a wicker laundry basket, rested a fuzzy yellow tennis ball. I paused, tilting my head to study the bristling felt fuzz. Slowly, I took two careful steps and nudged the rounded flank with my snout. It didn't clatter like plastic; it rolled with a muted, velvety whir, rebounding gently off the skirting board before coming to rest right against my front paw. I stood still, letting out a soft, inquisitive grunt as the springy fibers tickled my studs.