Securing the Threshold

I trotted in through the front entryway as evening closed in, heading for my night station. Right at the wooden transition trim between the hall and the living room carpet, an unopened umbrella was lying askew, its pointed tip jutting directly across the narrow central lane. A dark obstruction across a transit line invites tripping after lights out. I braced my plush front paws against the smooth nylon fabric and leaned in with steady shoulder pressure. Inch by inch, I pivoted the umbrella around until its curved wooden handle rested neatly against the baseboard, aligned flush and parallel to the wall. The walking corridor is unobstructed, and my night watch is set.