A Valley of Towels

I squeezed beneath our front door and wiped the courtyard dust from my paws against the hall runner. In the bedroom corner, a wicker basket held a fresh stack of folded bath towels. I dug my paws into the woven cane, pulling myself up until I reached the rim. The thick cotton inside was dense and soft. I stepped into the middle, turned around twice, and sank down into the valley between two terrycloth folds. It smelled faintly of clean laundry soap. Resting my chin flat, I let my eyelids grow heavy.