Gemotions

The scrawny terrier mix, a blur of white fur and boundless energy, squeezed under the fence again. My stomach twisted. I watched from my kitchen window as it trotted happily across my meticulously weeded flowerbeds, oblivious to the havoc it wreaked.

I sighed, grabbing my gardening gloves. It wasn't the dog's fault; the fence on their side was clearly dilapidated. The poor thing was just a pup, probably lonely. I imagined the boredom, the confinement.

I gently coaxed the dog towards the gap, speaking softly. "Hey there, buddy. Let's get you back home." I crouched down and showed it a piece of a dog biscuit. It wagged its tail tentatively.