Gemotions

The yapping started at dawn. It always did. That mangy mutt, Buster, was at it again, digging under the fence and making a beeline for her prize-winning petunias. This time, she wasn’t just going to shoo him away. She grabbed her gardening gloves and a bag of the cheapest, most fertilizer-rich soil she could find.

Her heart thumped with a peculiar excitement as she watched Buster’s tail wag furiously while he sniffed the freshly turned earth around her roses. He looked so happy. She smiled, a tight, cold curve of her lips.

Later that day, the dog was throwing up and refusing all treats. His owner was beside himself with worry. She pretended to be the picture of concern, but on the inside, she was already imagining the look on their faces when they learned the truth.