A Garden-Scented Nest

I tucked the crisp blade of dried grass tightly under my arm, stepping softly back toward the rubber shoe. The night in the entryway was growing dark and deep. I froze for a quiet moment, watching the shadows stretch across the coir mat. Nothing moved. Creeping to the shoe's wide rim, I slipped my feet over the smooth edge and slid down inside. The dark hollow was completely shielded from the hall's cool drafts, smelling heavily of damp garden dirt. I curled the dried grass strand along the rubber heel, leaning my back against the firm insole. Tucking my small paws close, I settled into the quiet gloom, ready to sleep.