A Hollow Flowerpot

A tiny scratchy echo sounded near the open door of the garden shed. I stopped behind a weathered wooden wheelbarrow, waiting to see what might shift. Nothing did. Slowly, I padded toward a terracotta pot tipped sideways on the gravel path. Inside was a dry cushion of dried sphagnum moss. I pressed my front paws carefully against the clay rim to test its balance. The pot stayed firm. I ducked low, letting the cool terracotta shelter my back while resting my chin against the soft moss inside.