Kind of Woman Project: “yelling at her dog”

She was the kind of woman who loved yelling at her dog. 

She had gotten a yippy little thing, the kind of animal that looked more like a rat and had the energy of a toddler from morning to night. She was the kind of woman who was too old to care for a dog, but who had purchased it anyway despite her own oncoming frailty. She had made the purchase in a moment of weakness, on a drizzly summer evening when she was feeling particularly down in the dumps, with all her aging friends dropping off like flies, and the lightest tap of regret for never having settled down. She’d married her career instead, sworn off children since her own youth, when her parents had made it abundantly clear that her conception had been a mistake. She’d never felt wanted, never felt loved. It was in this slice of melancholy that she saw her neighbors dog blissfully bouncing in the rain, without an owner or care in the world. It was then that the idea dawned on her- she could very easily buy her own companionship. How hard could it be?