Little Whiskers was a very soft cat with paws like velvet. All day he liked to play and nap in sunny spots. As the sun dipped low, painting the windows orange, Whiskers felt a cozy feeling. It was time for bed.
Whiskers stretched out long and tall, back arching. He let out a big yawn. It was time for his routine! He padded softly to his favorite spot by the warm radiator, circling to find the coziest place on his cushion.
Then, it was time for warm milk. He lapped it slowly from his blue bowl, feeling the warmth. This made him feel calm and settled. His purr motor started to rumble gently, like a tiny, happy engine.
After milk, Whiskers snuggled onto his soft cushion. He tucked paws neatly under his chin and closed his eyes halfway. Soon, his human came over, holding a book. Whiskers knew what came next. It was time for a story.
The human began to read in a soft voice. The story was about a little mouse. Whiskers listened to the gentle rhythm of the words. He didn't understand all of them, but he felt the calm, quiet, safe feeling. His purr grew louder, a steady hum of contentment.
As the story went on, Whiskers' eyelids felt heavier. Whiskers' breathing became slow and deep. The world outside faded. All that mattered was the soft voice, the warm cushion, and his happy purr.
When the human finished, Whiskers was fast asleep. He was dreaming sweet dreams of feather toys and sunbeams. He looked like a little furry ball of peace, curled up tight and safe. Goodnight, little Whiskers. Sleep tight.