Gemotions

The dog, a golden retriever, looked at her with what she interpreted as smugness. Its tail wagged, a taunt to her. The creature had a knack for finding the weak spots in the fence.

She felt a hot flush crawl up her neck, a bitter taste coating her tongue. Each day was the same. Each day, more damage. More reason for that familiar, gnawing ache in her gut.

She took a deep breath, fighting to keep her voice level. "I've told you," she’d said last week, "if it happens again, I'm calling animal control." The dog had, of course, chosen to ignore her.