Chip lowered his voice.

“And this is Dozer.”

The cookie continued rolling toward the blanket.

“Please do not wake him,” Chip whispered. “It is an art form.”

Dozer slept beneath the tree, breathing in slow, peaceful rhythms.

Chip took one careful step forward.

The cookie bounced.

He froze.

Another cookie rolled past behind him.

Socks whispered, “Should we intervene?”

“We are intervening,” Chip whispered back.

“We are standing very still.”

“It is a cautious form of intervention.”

The first cookie reached the edge of Dozer’s blanket.

Without opening his eyes, Dozer shifted one paw.

He tugged the blanket slightly and created a soft fold in the fabric.

The cookie rolled into it and stopped.

Chip stared.

Dozer gave a quiet, sleepy grunt and settled back into place.

Mo nodded from the bench.

“Professional.”

Then the machine gave another mechanical hiccup.

A shower of crumbs puffed into the air.

The remaining cookies began to bounce.