Shutting Out the Night Chill

I leaned me grand round belly right against the low sill of the cottage window, me middle letting out a weary, rumbling groan that rattled the frame. The crisp night breeze was whistling through, so I reached out both paws, gripped the iron handles of the two heavy pine shutters, and hauled them shut with a hearty clatter. Leaning me vast tummy against the wood to pin it tight against the draft, I dropped the thick iron bar into its slotted keeper. I drew me striped candy wand and tapped the cold iron latch. Snap-fizz! A flurry of sweet cinnamon sparks twinkled along the seam, sealing the night chill out and keeping me parlor snug.