Gemotions

The gate clicked shut. A soft thud echoed as Buster, the golden retriever menace, bumped against the wooden barrier. He whined, a sound that quickly faded as he realized his efforts were futile. Sarah grinned. She leaned against her porch railing, arms crossed, and watched Buster from the corner of her eye. She had finally fixed the latch.

Her husband, Mark, came out and clapped her on the shoulder. “Well done, honey! Looks like that escape artist is officially contained.” He beamed at her. She felt a lightness in her chest, a bubbly feeling, like when she received a good grade in school.

"I think I deserve a victory beer," she declared, striding back toward the house. The thought of that cold one made her smile even wider. The grass was green, the sky was blue, and Buster was firmly planted in his own backyard.