A Soft Foothold

I slipped down from the table and stepped onto the deep weave of the living room rug. Each step sank in just a little, muffling every sound. Across the floor, a knitted throw blanket hung loosely over the edge of the sofa like a textured ramp. I paused, watching the gentle rise and fall of morning shadows across the wool. Slowly, I reached out and took hold of the thick yarn loops, testing each grip before pulling upward. The fabric held firm under my paws. Tucked deep into the cushion crease at the top, I discovered a hollowed-out fold of fleece that completely sheltered me from the draft. I nestled in, listening to the quiet hum of the house.