Gemotions

The yapping started before dawn again. Mildred groaned, pulling the covers over her head, but the sound was relentless. She knew, with a certainty that settled like a stone in her stomach, what was happening. Buster, the golden retriever from next door, had wriggled free yet again.

She didn't get out of bed immediately. Instead, she savored the silence, the growing anticipation. She imagined the chaos: Mrs. Gable’s prize-winning roses trampled, the newly planted petunias decimated.

Finally, she rose. She slipped on her gardening boots and grabbed her trowel. A slow smile spread across her face as she stepped outside, the early morning light casting long shadows across her meticulously manicured lawn.