A Gentle Warmth in the Weave

The morning was very still. Behind my back, a deep warmth pressed close—a soft, waffle-textured yellow blanket resting against the sofa. I waited, listening. Then, slowly, I nudged my right arm backward. My paw dipped into the small knitted squares, feeling each ridge spring back under my weight. I can move. I paused, letting the gentle texture settle against my fur, then rested quietly once more against the cozy denim beneath me.