Gemotions

He was mid-sentence, lecturing his grandson about the proper way to trim a hedge, when the familiar chaos erupted. The gate creaked, the telltale sound of another breakout. A jolt, like static electricity, ran through him.

"Good heavens," he grumbled, his voice losing its usual steadiness. His heart was hammering a furious rhythm against his ribs. He felt a sudden, almost desperate need for *action*.

He abandoned his lesson. "Stay there!" he commanded, pointing a trembling finger. He was halfway across the yard, moving with a surprising agility, before he fully realised he was doing it. The dog, a small, white blur, was gleefully sniffing his meticulously planted petunias.