The Thread Trail

A wooden spool of teal embroidery thread was resting on its side beside the wicker basket. I crouched low, studying the notched wooden rim before giving it a firm shove with my snout. It spun away with a dry rattle across the flat weave, leaving a bright ribbon of blue line unraveling behind it. The spool finally bumped into the dark timber of the sofa leg and stopped. I trotted after the trail, hooked one front claw under the taut thread, and gave a sharp tug. The spool wobbled back toward me an inch, spooling out just enough slack for me to settle into the coil.