Night Whir on the Bristles

Dark dropped fast, cold wind nipped my fur, so I scrambled back toward the glowing porch! Right in front of the door frame lay a thick, prickly coir welcome mat! Stiff brown bristles standing straight up like tiny wooden stakes! I didn't slow down—charged straight in, planted both feet, and dragged my gear hand hard through the prickly fibers! Rrrrr-skrrr-thump! The coarse fibers resisted, snapping back against the teeth with a low, fuzzy hum! Leaned my whole chest down, grinding it back and forth until brown fiber dust kicked up into the porch light. Solid resistance! Now I'm wedged by the door crack, listening to the quiet night!