Chapitre 90: Chapter 90: Laying Blame

My gag reflex had obviously grown accustomed to the stink of her poo, because fetching the little garden shovel didn't make me want to throw up like it used to, nor did scooping it with rather practiced efficiency in one quick motion. I was getting good at this. Not that dog poop scooping was going to be an Olympic sport any time soon, but if it ever came up, I'd be a contender.

Petunia, meanwhile, watched with the kind of glassy eyed happiness that was her regular expression, as if having me for a slave was par for her particular puggy course. She followed me when I deposited her offering to the gods of stink in the compost pile and carefully set aside the shovel, her bulging brown eyes seeming to gleam with glee.

"You really need to lay off the sweets," I said, pausing at the door. She farted softly in response before licking her chops, clearly expecting to be fed now that she'd made room in her chubby pug body for more flatulence creating delectables.