A Soft Clothespin Perch

Coming inside from the garden sink as dusk chilled the air, I wandered toward the quiet shadow by the coat rack. A thick, dark felt coat was hanging low, its hem brushing against the baseboard. Right on the floorboards beneath it lay an old spring-loaded wooden clothespin, pinched shut on a scrap of beige ribbon. I paused to inspect its neat little metal jaw. Leaning my weight forward, I gently nudged the wooden peg with both hooves until it slid directly under the drooping wool hem. With a slow push of my chin, I propped the hem up over the wooden pin, creating a tiny, shaded tent that blocked the draft. Tucking my hooves underneath myself, I settled into the quiet warmth.