It stared at me, its eyes never leaving mine. I slowly pulled the pistol out of the waistband of my jeans and raised my arm, aiming it. It never flinched. My left hand held my dog’s leash. My dog was what it wanted. That wasn’t going to happen. A standoff had ensued.
The Coyote
The Write Scribe 
Fab entry Rosemary. I love how protective your character was over their dog. Loved it.
LikeLike
Thank you so much, Sacha!
LikeLike