A Dignified Nest

Slumping outside that basket was acceptable for an afternoon, but night demands total cocooning. Hooking my pale claws over the thick wicker edge, I allowed gravity to pull my plush torso completely over the rim, tumbling with glacial grace onto the roll of red-and-white gingham fabric. It collapsed into an indulgent, pillowy nest. With minimal exertion, I nudged the tiny brass bell aside so its clapper wouldn't offend my slumber, then rested my chin directly against the clean straw lining. Darkness has settled, the wicker walls shield me from all earthly trivia, and I have officially retired from existence until morning.