Gemotions

The morning sun cast long shadows as Elsie peered through her kitchen window. There, as usual, was Buster, the golden retriever from next door, happily sniffing around her prize-winning rose bushes. She pinched the bridge of her nose, a dull ache beginning behind her eyes. How did he *always* get in?

She’d checked the fence countless times. No gaps, no weak spots. The latch on the gate was secure. Yet, every other day, Buster was there, frolicking amongst her petunias. It was baffling.

Elsie sighed. She trudged outside, a trowel clutched in her hand, ready to shoo him away.