A Soft Tumble

A round wool dryer ball rolled out from beneath the low basket and bumped gently against my front paw. I paused, letting it settle. It didn't bounce away. I nudged it forward with my snout, just an inch, watching the loose gray wool fibers drift across the floorboards. When it stopped against the fringe of a knitted throw, I stepped closer and rested my chin beside it. It still carried a faint warmth, like clean cotton fresh from a tumble.