Breaching the Coils

I pushed past the heavy front door and charged down the brick porch steps into the yard. Fresh air. In the damp mulch beside the front stone walkway lay a thick, coiled green garden hose, looping across the black earth like an idle serpent. An obstacle blocking my waterway. I dropped my snout, gripped the stiff ribbed rubber between my teeth, and hauled backward with full body weight. It fought back with heavy tension. I braced both hind claws deep into the moist soil, lunged forward, and slammed my chest into the central coil. The loop buckled flat with a dull snap against the mulch. I stomped my foot onto the brass coupling, teeth bared, and let out a blunt, clicking rumble.