The Little Spiral Shell

I trotted down the wooden porch steps and followed the sunlit stones toward the large terracotta planter. Resting right in the shallow seam between two flagstones was a tiny, pale snail shell, no bigger than my paw pad. I crept forward and nudged its curved outer edge with the tip of my snout. It gave a faint, dry scrape against the stone, rolling half an inch before settling into a warm groove. Leaning close, I rested my front paws on either side of it to shield it from the garden breeze, admiring the delicate swirl carved into its smooth little back.