The Paper Sled

I marched straight toward the wide opening of a heavy brown paper bag tipped on the kitchen tiles. The stiff kraft paper crackled sharply under my first paw—loud and crisp against the cabinets. I paused, planting both front feet to let the noise settle. It held firm. Lowering my head, I leaned in with steady shoves of my snout. The paper belly crinkled around me, scraping across the smooth wax like a sled. My weight nudged the whole bag gliding a foot outward into the open floor. I stopped right at the bottom seam, poking my nose out to watch the sunlit room.