A Cool Cloud

I padded down the gravel lane and slipped inside the warm plant nursery greenhouse. Along a low cedar potting bench, a small brass plant mister was resting beside a flat clay saucer of moss. I approached at an unhurried pace and pressed my blunt snout against the curved thumb lever. The brass pump yielded with a soft, springy click, puffing a fine, cool cloud of mist into the air. Three tiny droplets drifted down, landing right across the bridge of my nose. I stood completely still, letting the damp cedar scent settle around my paws while the mist melted away.