A Knitted Pocket

My paws pattered back inside through the door sill, glad to curl away from the cold night air. Over near the wicker basket, a heavy wool waffle-knit mitten had slipped flat onto the oak floorboards. Its cuff was dotted with tiny horn buttons. I paused, tilting forward to inspect the soft ribbed hem before giving the cuff an experimental tap with my snout. It parted with a gentle, cushioned give. Shuffling my round tummy forward, I tucked my front legs into the knitted pocket. The chunky yarn wrapped snugly across my back, settling me into the quiet dimness.