Gemotions

The lawn mower was already out. I had just finished my first pass, the satisfying roar of the engine a counterpoint to the quiet of the neighborhood. Then, a blur of white fur and bounding energy and the unmistakable sound of the escape.

It was Snowflake, the Samoyed. And she was gleefully bounding across my freshly cut grass, leaving muddy paw prints in her wake. I gripped the handle, knuckles white.

I turned off the mower, the sudden silence amplifying the frustration. I could feel my pulse quicken, my breath coming in short bursts.