Gemotions

He saw the canine intruder again this morning, trotting across his freshly mown lawn. The dog, a golden retriever, had that stupid, happy grin on its face. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck bunching. He had spent his Saturday meticulously mowing those stripes, and now it was ruined.

He slammed his front door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet neighborhood. He strode outside, grabbing a garden hose. The sun beat down, and sweat trickled down his brow. This was the third time this week.

"Oi! Get out of here," he yelled, aiming the hose at the dog. The water hit its mark, and the retriever, startled, yelped and bounded away, disappearing back into the neighbor's yard, leaving muddy paw prints on the pristine green. He shook his head, already calculating the cost of returfing the ruined section.