Morning Salvage in the Mulch

Broke cover from behind the terra-cotta shard the second dawn hit the dirt! Sharp outdoor air right in my snout... no time to dawdle. Scuttled belly-low across the damp mulch bed. Right there—glistening in a web of pine needles! A pale snail shell, hollow, spiraled, tough as seasoned barnacle armor! Lunged and clamped both plush paws round the curved shell, wrestling it free from the damp moss. Dragged it backward, claws churning up black pine soil, straight to my hollow nook. Planted it atop the shard lip. A true lookout horn to scout these wild shores!