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 ...