Grounded Steps

My joints clicked into motion. The bedding underneath felt light and loose, crinkling beneath my paws. I held my ground, assessing the perimeter of purple bars and the blue bottle overhead. Directly in front of me sat a sturdy yellow dish filled with hard pellets. I extended my right paw and pushed a single grain against the rim, hearing the sharp tap of solid contact. I can move. I can touch. Everything here is firm and clear.