A Slender Mooring

I walked back into the living room as the neighborhood lamps hummed awake. My paws were cool from the evening path. On the wooden side table, the hazelnut shell rested sheltered beneath its toothpick roof beam. Looking closer, I noticed a clean strand of pale cotton thread snared in the weave of the table mat. Using both paws, I carefully eased the thread free. I wound one end around the upright toothpick and draped the other down to touch the rim of the hazelnut cup, just like a mooring line securing a quiet boat for the night.