Wren shoved the door of the green house open. The heavy wood frame stuck on the frozen ground, leaving only a few feet to squeeze in.
“Go, go,” she urged Chris. The arcanine, tongue lolling, obediently shuffled in. His bulky winter coat squeezed through the gap. Wren crowded in behind him, turning and throwing her shoulder into the door as soon as she had cleared it. The heavy wood dragged shut, and clouds of Wren’s breath disappeared as warm humid air hit her face.
She sighed and began to unwrap herself from layers of scarfs and sweaters. She glanced at the thermometer before making her way to the back of the building, leaning down to unplug the heater. The hum of the monstrous unit died away, leaving a powerful silence in the greenhouse.
Chris let out a whine filled yawn, delicately laying himself down on the weedy dirt between rows of wooden tables. His eyes drooped and his tail wagged softly. He was thrilled to be somewhere warm for a change.