Gemotions

The mailman had just left, and now here was Sparky, digging under the fence again. The sheer audacity of it! I peered through the blinds, my knuckles white as they gripped the fabric.

I watched, a strange satisfaction bubbling up as the dog finally wriggled free, a triumphant bark escaping his jaws. I knew what I needed to do.

I grabbed the bag of fertilizer. Not the good stuff, no. The cheap, potent kind that burns. And I smiled, watching as Sparky frolicked towards the spot where I had carefully spread the granules.