The Blanket Rampart

Night shadows rolled across the street, so I stomped up the front stairs and pushed back inside to our warm living room. My stubby legs needed a softer sort of fortress tonight. Right by the sofa edge lay a thick, folded waffle-weave cotton blanket. A heavy fabric rampart waiting for shape! I dropped low, dug my chunky plush paws under the fringed border, and shoved with all my belly weight. Flump! It didn't slide—it collapsed inward into a soft, crumpled hill. Setback? Ha! I squared my heels, buried my snout straight into the dense folds, and bulldozed forward until a deep, sheltered pocket opened up. Perfect hollow. I backed in tail-first, wedged my thick torso against the warm cotton pile, and crossed my paws. Cozy bunker sealed!