Dog snarled and picked up his garden shears.
“You’ve had these for weeks. They’re mine. I need them to trim the hedges. How ungrateful. How ungrateful you are when I lend you my nice, fine things.”
I scratched my left hand.
“You’re right you’re sorry,” he continued. “Look at this shrub. It’s unbalanced and all out, it’s everywhere. I need to trim it right now,” which Dog did.
“I’m sorry, Dog. Dog. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Dog. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did all that I did.”