A Hollow Echo

A slight shift in weight. My front paws pressed down into the soft fabric, and my head turned freely for the first time. The cone around my neck caught the quiet stillness of the room, funneling the faint air into a gentle hum. Before me sat a pale plastic steamer basket resting on the wrinkled sheets. I paused, measuring the clearance. Stepping forward with deliberate care, I leaned in until the rim of my collar brushed against the woven lid. A crisp, hollow tap echoed right back to my ears. I am here, and I can move.