Claiming the Dry Spot

I waddled back in through the bottom pet flap, completely drenched from hanging around the damp garden all afternoon. My plush bottom was freezing, so I marched straight across the kitchen linoleum toward the base of the big white radiator. Stuffed right underneath was a dry checkered dish towel someone had dropped. Perfect. I grabbed the edge with both feet, dragged it into a messy pile, and burrowed myself right in against the hot pipes. The warmth kicked in instantly, baking off the chill while rain clicked harmlessly against the dark kitchen window outside.