A Tiny Dry Sound

I padded inside from the garden as evening settled... shaking the cool grit from my paws. Down by the baseboard, a dry pinecone lay resting near a wool doorstop. I stopped... one front paw lifted, listening to the quiet room. Inching forward, I nudged the prickly scales with my snout. It rolled an inch with a crisp, scratchy murmur across the polished floorboards before bumping softly against the wool. I lowered my chest onto the warm wood, tucking my paws close to keep it company.