The Warm Crater

My paws were stiff and chilled from the evening draft, so I marched back inside toward the quiet hum of the living room. Right on the sofa sat a fresh stack of tumble-dried blankets, radiating magnificent heat. Naturally, that was an open invitation. I dragged myself up by the hem, burrowing headfirst into the thickest fleece throw. A rogue knitted cuff snagged my right ear along the way—I let out a soft, resigned grumble, gave a reluctant wiggle, and accepted the tangle. Once loose, I circled firmly, trampling the neat stack into a deeply sunken, disheveled nest. It is undeniably cozy, and I have zero intention of moving.