A Matter of Proper Decorum

I found myself propped against deep blue fabric, entirely stationary. A curious sensation stirred within my seams. With quiet deliberation, I tested whether movement was permissible. Slowly, I raised my right paw to my chest, noting the gentle, soft pressure against my plush belly. Feeling the edge of my patterned scarf slightly askew, I pressed my paw against its hem, carefully smoothing the fabric into an orderly line. Everything was quiet, yet I was undeniably present and awake.