Inside the Fleece Slipper

I hopped down from the book stack and walked over to the felt house slipper resting beside the armchair. Its fleece opening stood propped against the rug, soft and inviting. Lowering my snout, I nudged the fuzzy collar aside and wriggled my front paws inside. The interior was deep, quiet, and warm. I turned around inch by inch until my hind legs settled into the toe, resting my chin squarely over the curved edge. With my long ears draped down the sides, I watched the shadows lengthen across the floor.