Gemotions

The tomatoes. They were finally ripening, plump and red, a testament to months of diligent care. Then, the canine bandit. Just a flash of white fur and a blur of wagging tail, and then *crunch*. A mangled, half-eaten beefsteak lay on the grass. Amelia slammed the back door, her jaw tight. She marched next door, the metal screen door screaming in protest as she wrenched it open. "Rover! Again!" she yelled, her voice strained, a raw edge to it. The dog, oblivious, was happily sniffing at a rose bush.