Evening Patrol Post

I trotted in through the front porch, shaking the damp chill from my paws after the trek back from town! Rain taps steadily against the porch glass, but inside is warm and dim. Right at the foot of the coats rack, an empty wooden shoehorn had slipped flat across the floorboards. I bounded straight over and nudged the curved smooth wood with my nose, angling it so it lined up neatly against the skirting board. Then I dropped onto my chest and hooked both front paws over its curved handle. With my chin resting right on the polished birch surface, I've got a clear view down the whole hallway!