“Kasha!” she called sharply.

No response.

“Kasha, come!”
 
Her dog remained oblivious.

“Kasha!” Paulina spluttered, red-faced.  “Kasha, dammit, come!!”

The Afghan seemed to notice her for the first time. Circling back in her high-stepping, champion-bloodlined gait, she licked Paulina with infinite affection and good nature, then gamboled back up the ivied slope to where the golden retriever waited.

Out of control, thought Paulina.  Her hand quivered slightly as she bore down on the nozzle.

The blast of water landed on the retriever's chest.  He moved to dodge it, and Paulina followed his motion with the nozzle.  Kasha darted toward him.  She yelped as a jet of water struck her ear.

Paulina cursed and waited for Kasha to move out of the line of fire.

Her next blast hit the golden retriever almost between the eyes.  He ducked under it like a prizefighter—and to Paulina's astonishment, came up wagging his tail and snapping at the stream of water.  This seemed to be a favorite game for him.

Paulina snarled in exasperation, realizing that the dog was the product of generations of breeding to enjoy water. 

She dropped the hose, bit her lip, and charged into the kitchen.