Gemotions

The fence was new. Brand new, just put up last week. And that mutt, that fluffy, oversized menace, was already testing its limits. Sarah slammed the gardening shears onto the patio table, the metal ringing sharply in the afternoon quiet.

"Again?" she muttered, pacing the length of her porch. Her jaw was tight, and she felt a tremor of frustration starting in her stomach.

She marched across the lawn, deliberately stomping through the freshly watered grass. The dog, a golden retriever with a perpetually innocent expression, was sniffing around her prize-winning rose bushes.

"Get out of here!" Sarah yelled, her voice sharper than she intended. The dog merely glanced up, wagged its tail weakly, and resumed its exploration. She gritted her teeth. This was the third time this week.