The Quilted Footstool Tunnel

My paws pattered quietly across the hallway floorboards, glad to slip back inside from the tram stop shelter. Over by the carved foot of the sideboard cabinet, a small quilted footstool cushion had tipped off its low perch, propped at an angle against a fallen rolled wool sock. I paused, tilting forward to inspect its tidy diamond grid of soft, stitched dimples. With a gentle, polite nudge of my black snout, I tested the propped opening underneath. The heavy cotton fabric yielded with a muffled, springy hush, holding firm against the sock. Shuffling my round tummy forward, I tucked my legs underneath and eased beneath the cozy fabric arch, letting the calm indoor warmth hug my spots for the night.