Gemotions

The dachshund, a sausage-shaped escape artist, was waddling toward my rose bushes. A wave of frustration threatened to overwhelm me. But then I remembered Mrs. Gable, the dog’s elderly owner.

Mrs. Gable was often sick, and her movements were difficult. The woman was always apologizing for the dog. I pictured her frail hands, her worried expression.

Instead of yelling, I carefully shooed the dog back toward the flimsy fence. “Everything is fine, just heading back home," I called out, my voice softening. "Be careful!"