Night Post

I walked up the front steps and crossed back inside before full dark settled. The house was quiet, but near the entrance runner, a thick rubber boot tray had drifted outward, jutting unevenly across the doorway. I stepped onto the cold tile, planted my hind limbs, and lowered my stance. Pressing my chest firmly against the rigid rubber ridge, I drove it backward until its edge met the wooden baseboard with a dull, solid thud. With the entry path unobstructed, I turned and lowered myself onto the woven edge of the runner, chin resting on my front paws. The perimeter is enclosed. I am holding the threshold for the night.