Shelter under the bench

I crept along the edge of the stone path until my paws touched damp garden mulch. Ahead stood a tall wooden bench. It looked like a wide, shady bridge, so I ducked underneath where the air felt quiet and cool. Right between two mossy cobblestones, a tiny, translucent snail shell sat nestled in the dark earth. Holding my collar bell securely against my chest, I leaned in and tapped it with one paw. It didn't rattle at all, just rolled softly into a dip between the roots. It feels very safe to watch the big garden from right here.