The Springy Sphere

I lunged at a faded yellow tennis ball wedged tightly between the woody stems of the boxwood hedge. Expecting the cold, rigid bite of iron or stone, I clamped down, but the thick felt yielded with an unexpected spring and a muffled squeak. Startled by the give, I stomped down with my heavy hind foot. The sphere flattened beneath my claw, then abruptly kicked back, rocketing loose across the open lawn. I charged straight after it through the clover, tail flared for balance. Before it rolled beneath the patio bench, I swept one foreclaw down, pinning the resilient ball flat into the damp soil with a sharp, satisfied hiss.