Climbing the Stacks

Three thick cookbooks lay stepped against the kitchen cabinet like a low staircase. I pressed my front paws onto the bottom spine, testing the sturdy woven cloth. It felt solid, not slippery like the waxed tiles. With a determined heave of my plush belly, I wiggled upward. My back feet kicked in slow, steady paddling motions until I tumbled flat onto the first cover. I took a brief rest, letting the embossed lettering cool my chin, before scrambling up to the next ledge. Reaching the very top book, I slid forward and peered down across the vast linoleum expanse below. From up here, the whole kitchen looked like a wide, sunny harbor.