Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a spotlight on her face. Another day, another scattering of muddy paw prints across the pristine lawn. It was always the same. That mutt, Buster, from next door, again. She slammed the back door, the force rattling the glass panes.

She spotted the offending canine, tail wagging, sniffing around the bird feeder she'd painstakingly filled that morning. Her jaw clenched. The feeders were her one true joy. Each morning, she'd refill them and gaze out at the birds. Not today, though.

“Buster!” she barked, her voice sharper than she intended. The dog merely glanced up, ears perked. He obviously knew who she was. The audacity. She grabbed her gardening gloves and marched towards him, ready for the confrontation.