“Your son has terrified my dog for the last time!” Amanda Reeves trembled as she shouted across the fence line.
Being shouted at was not Paul Muller’s favorite way to be welcomed home, even on days when the weather cold and snowy.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Reeves,” Paul knee-jerked as he walked up the sidewalk patch that lead from his garage to the back door. “I’ll talk to Sydney right away.”
Reeves harrumphed at him. “Who is going to get King out?”
The question stopped Paul in his tracks. “Out?” he asked turning and looking across the fence at Reeves’ yard.
King, a tiny black Pomeranian trembled with cold from where he had been placed in the center of a ring of icicles, each placed point-inward at the dog; the spikes effectively prevented him from leaving the circle, much like the spikes atop utility poles kept birds from perching.
Paul stammered, and became angry as he saw a spark of smug satisfaction rise in Reeves’ face.
“Your boy is a degenerate,” she spit.
“He’s a girl,” Paul snapped back; “My boy is a girl.”