Gemotions

Rain lashed down as I watched, mortified, from my kitchen window. Sparky, my tiny chihuahua, was face to face with a slobbering Great Dane, thanks to a hole in the fence. A shiver, not entirely from the cold, ran down my spine.

I grabbed a towel and a whistle, dread pooling in my gut. I hated the potential for conflict.

Mr. Peterson, the owner of the Great Dane, was notoriously bad-tempered, and I was going to have to make the uncomfortable walk over there, in my pajamas, to retrieve my pet. My cheeks were on fire.