Night Anchor

Night blackened the outside glass. The street lamps cast long shadows across the painted pine sill. Beside my flank, the heavy woven curtain hem hung loose, swaying with every cool draft from the glass pane. Unstable partition. I backed up two strides, planting both hind claws into the dry wood seam. Lowering my snout, I drove forward with steady, continuous weight, shoving the thick bunched fabric into the narrow gap behind the vertical wooden casing. The stiff cloth groaned and wedged tight. The billowing stopped completely. I rested my heavy belly against the cleared timber, tail curled alongside the mullion. Night watch set.