Things Can Always Get Worse


Standing before her, tangled in the bushes and whimpering with the efforts of trying to get loose, was Lisha. The dog’s ears were dropped and she did not look happy. Her beige leash was caught on one of the bush’s more sturdier branches, and it did not yield even when she tugged violently.

“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” Elinor reprimanded gently, kneeling down and concentrating on untying the impossible knot in the leash. The task she was trying to accomplish became hard to work on when Lisha started licking her in the face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m happy to see you too.”

Elinor continued to loosen the knot in the leash; when it was finally gone, Lisha tried to make a bolt for it, but Elinor kept a firm grip on the leash and so the eager dog’s plan was utterly thwarted.

“Good. At least things can’t get – "

Her sentence was neatly butchered into two when she was interrupted by a flood of torrential rain. Thunder rolled overhead as Elinor’s expression soured.

“Just. Perfect.”

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