Evening Retreat

My paws left the cold terra-cotta rim behind as the garden grew dark. Sniff, sniff. The gravel path was quiet. Taking careful, deliberate steps across the stones, I made my way back toward the porch risers. One steady hop at a time, I climbed up the painted wooden steps. Safe. Right beneath the raised door sill, the familiar dark seam waited. With gentle nudges of my snout, I squeezed past the dried maple wing guarding the opening and nestled deep inside. The dry cedar scent wrapped around me, quiet and safe for the night.