A Warm Towel

I stepped back inside through the rear threshold, my paws still damp from the garden birdbath. In the quiet bathroom, a thick waffle-knit cotton towel hung low over the edge of a wooden footstool. I approached with steady, polite strides. Taking my time, I pressed each paw firmly against the deep, soft ridges, letting the absorbent fabric draw away the cool moisture. It felt gentle and wonderfully clean. Beside the stool, a smooth porcelain dish rested steadily upon the tiled floor. Bracing my sturdy tail against the wooden leg, I stood in quiet comfort, ready for the night.