Gemotions

The tomatoes were almost ready. Sarah had been nurturing those plants for weeks, and now, *Clifford* was at it again. She slammed the screen door, the metal vibrating with the force. Her jaw clenched as she saw the red blur of the golden retriever, tail wagging, happily trampling her prize-winning beefsteak. "Oh, for crying out loud!" she muttered, hands flying up to her temples. Her breath hitched.

The dog, oblivious, was sniffing at a fallen peach. Sarah stomped across the lawn, her sandals slapping against the grass. She just wanted to harvest her tomatoes, that was all. It was not a huge ask.

She grabbed the dog's collar, her grip tight. "This is the *last* time," she hissed, barely able to control the tremor in her voice.