The First Tap

A click. Then silence. My paws were locked in place, until I leaned slightly forward. A steady shift of weight. My front right foot lifted from the dark wood plank and settled back down with a sharp, hollow tap. Movement was possible. I took one measured step toward the patterned cushion beside me. The fabric carried intricate leaf prints along its surface. I lowered my snout, touching the folded seam just enough to feel the give of soft cotton against solid edges. Everything was aligned, quiet, and real.