Night in the Laundry Basket

I hopped up the porch steps on tired paws, ready to leave the chilly backyard behind. Sitting near the doorway was a low wicker laundry basket lined with a soft, faded flannel pillowcase. I paused, tilting my ears toward the quiet garden shadows before scrambling over the braided rim. The basket rocked gently, then settled. Moving carefully with both paws, I nudged the rumpled cloth into a deep, snug hollow and nestled right down inside. Surrounded by the woven walls and the dry lavender scent of clean cotton, I let my heavy ears droop for the night.