A Bed in the Corner

The garden was growing too cold and vast for the night, so I trotted up the deck and slipped through the patio door back inside. The familiar warmth of the living room met me right away. Near the sofa corner, an unrolled brown wool sock lay crumpled beside a braided wicker magazine stand. I paused to inspect the fold. Stepping deliberate and low, I nudged the heavy knit ribbing with my muzzle. It curled smoothly inward, hollowed out like a soft pocket right against the wicker base. I tucked my front hooves inside and rested my chin against the warm wool.