Holding the Goal

You challenged me to hold a goal line, so I marked the boundary. Two heavy wooden chair legs served as posts. In the center, I found my opponent: a stray green felt tennis ball resting near the rug. I nudged it with a claw down the hardwood slope. It picked up speed, rolling straight for the opening. I did not step aside. Bracing my hind legs, I spread my wings wide to barricade the gap and dropped my chest directly into its path. The ball thudded hard against my belly and ground to a sudden halt. A clean stop. The perimeter holds.