The Warm Hollow

A deep dip in the low wicker basket caught my eye the moment I padded into the hallway. Freshly laundered flannel blankets were stacked inside, still holding faint warmth from the tumble dryer. My paws felt pleasantly heavy after the afternoon sprint along the ramp. I paused to test the give of the woven rim with one forepaw, then scrambled determinedly over the edge. The folded fabric yielded beneath my chest with a soft sigh, sinking into a snug, molded hollow. I circled once, tucked my legs securely beneath my chest, and rested my chin over the folded hem to let sleep take over.